


After the Tavern

by icedteainthebag



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedteainthebag/pseuds/icedteainthebag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently, three is in fact a crowd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story exists in an alternate reality.
> 
> Mulder did get abducted and returned. Scully never got pregnant; I couldn't do this to a pregnant woman. Mulder never killed Knowle Rohrer, he wasn't court marshaled and M&S didn't run away together, not yet anyway. Besides that...yeah   
> everything's the same.
> 
> Be forewarned that this story (through all parts) goes to odd, uncomfortable places. Hot sex abounds. People will be angry, hurt and confused. Relationships are so fun, aren't they?
> 
> Much love and thanks to Marigold for the fab beta reading. You're amazing. This one's for you.
> 
> Oh yeah, and Sparky's a throwback to old-school XF fanfic. If you get it...you rule.

She hears him calling her name through the darkness and   
stumbles to find him. Her steps lead to nothing. Lost in the   
dark, she begins to panic and squint through the sparse light   
of a half-moon filtering through a maze of trees. The smell   
of a deep pine forest attacks her senses. Wet earth, leaves   
disintegrating under her feet, she runs faster toward his   
voice. But it's everywhere. In front, behind, all around her.   
She trips and begins to fall. She lands next to his cold   
body, his lifeless gaze pointing her in another direction.

Scully's body twitched and tossed until at long last, she   
jumped awake. Eyes wild, she scanned the room, becoming aware   
of her surroundings. Alone in her bed, sheets tousled, a   
light drifting in from the bathroom. Scully panted as she   
pulled sweaty hair away from her cheeks. She closed her eyes   
as silence enveloped her. She heard nothing but a stray car   
passing by outside, a light wind through the trees.

The bathroom light flicked off and she pretended to be   
asleep, her fingers twisted into the worn cotton sheets. A   
hot tear fell and she bit the inside of her cheek. Another   
night, another dream, another loss.

She felt a body slip in beside her and exhaled as a warm hand   
slid across her bare stomach. She knew better than to hide   
her sorrow. She tried, but always miserably failed.

"Dana?"

She opened her eyes, turning on her side. Fingers blazed a   
tiny trail along the small of her back. The gaze that was   
returned is dark, sincerely concerned. She took a shaky   
breath. "It's okay. Just another nightmare."

No explanation was necessary. They were always the same. The   
fingers sifted through her hair, calming her instantly. She   
snuggled deeply into the scented, soft skin of Monica's   
shoulder. Their limbs twined together, a habit that had   
quickly formed between them.

Monica combed through her soft hair with her fingers until   
Scully drifted off into slumber, hoping for a rare and   
peaceful rest.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

ONE MONTH EARLIER  
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING  
5:06 P.M.

"So what you got planned tonight, Agent Mulder?" Doggett   
asked, smacking his fist into his palm aimlessly. Mulder   
wondered whether John Doggett really needed to know that he'd   
planned a spectacular night of watching UFO sightings on   
YouTube over a container of beef lo mein. Doggett wasn't on   
the X-Files anymore, but frequented the basement just about   
as often as Agent Reyes, to check on how the cases were   
going, asking about anything new and exciting.

Once you're in it, you're in it for life, Mulder thought. He   
sauntered with his coat to the door.

"Not much. You?"

"Well, the reason I came down here is tonight a few of us are   
going out with Monica to celebrate her first ten years at the   
Bureau," he answered, walking alongside Mulder to the   
elevator.

"Going out?" Mulder repeated.

"Yeah, you know. A few rounds of drinks. She has about as   
much of a life as we all do around here," Doggett replied.   
"Well except maybe you. But thought I'd have a drink with her   
to celebrate."

Mulder furrowed his brow, contemplating Doggett's obvious   
criticism of his social life. Or lack thereof.

"Let me talk to...Dana and we'll be there if we can," he   
answered. It had been a long time since they'd been out. It   
was usually too much of a hassle. Most nights they spent   
together began with a rented movie and ended with him picking   
up the scattered pieces of his clothing that trailed to her   
bedroom.

"All right, we'll be at the Billy Goat Tavern around nine or   
so," Doggett said. Mulder nodded and headed for his car.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"They're going to the Billy Goat Tavern?" Scully repeated   
over the phone. He could practically hear her nose wrinkling.   
"Whose idea was that, Mulder? Yours?"

"No," he answered defensively. He'd known what her reaction   
would be before he asked. "It was your friend Agent Doggett's   
idea, thanks."

"It's so...interesting." He could hear her seethe a bit on   
the other end of the line. "Maybe we can buy her a t-shirt."

"Scully, I'm just the messenger here. You know I'd rather   
stay home, but I'm afraid nobody's going to show up at this   
impromptu shindig and poor Agent Reyes is going to be stuck   
listening to New York City crime stories all night as Agent   
Doggett nurses his gin."

He knew what it would take to convince her. He'd mastered   
that tone and delivery a long time ago.

A deep sigh proved it to be true. "I suppose we haven't been   
out in awhile."

"Damn straight," Mulder said.

"You're doing the driving," she added.

"Certainly, Miss Daisy. I'll come calling at 8:30."

"Whatever," she groaned, rolling her eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

SCULLY'S APARTMENT  
8:41 P.M.

Mulder picked her up late as usual and Scully made him wait a   
little longer just to spite him. He was drumming along on the   
steering wheel to Journey when she slid into the seat next to   
him.

"Hey," she said, turning down the blaring music.

"Who doesn't like Steve Perry?" he asked. She felt his eyes   
slowly pass over her body, bringing color to her cheeks. He   
immediately noticed her blush and his lips curled up in a   
smug smile. "You look beautiful."

She laughed softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Thank   
you."

Scully had always been intrigued by the effect his words and   
looks had on her state of mind, and as of late, her physical   
state as well. One glance could make her feel like an ice   
cream cone dripping in midday August heat, anticipating the   
first touch of his tongue.

She remembered their first time together in the most vivid   
details imaginable. She'd arrived at his apartment door, a   
typical day, a typical mission to discuss the details of a   
case they were working on. Her typical excuse for visiting   
with a bagful of takeout food, just because. That night it   
was Greek, and she'd gone out of her way to swing by his   
favorite place. He liked the stuffed grape leaves, which   
amused her, because she'd never seen him exhibit such a   
diversified palate until she started bringing him meals.

He'd opened the door, the breezy smell of his cologne hitting   
her and wobbling her knees. Wet hair, a t-shirt and jeans, no   
socks. She'd stepped into the apartment and closed the door,   
and upon facing him again, he had her up against the hard   
wood so quickly it took her mind a few seconds to catch up.   
His mouth had hungrily searched hers, sending a hot current   
down her body from head to toe.

Clothes were torn, a lamp crashed to the floor, magazines   
were flung to the ground to make room on the closest   
available surface to explore each other. They'd crash landed   
on the couch; frantically groping hands, fingernails digging   
into heated skin, teeth gnashing together. Fingers twining   
into hair, sliding down slick flesh, memorizing every spot   
they could find. They couldn't get there quickly enough.

Mulder's mouth had moved down her stomach, leaving fiery hot   
kisses in its wake. She'd pulled at his hair with a moan as   
he moved down her inner thighs with slow strokes of his   
tongue, like he was taking a long forbidden road before   
arriving at his final destination. Her hips arched to him;   
she was desperate for him to come up and kiss her again, not   
knowing how long she could hold out if he put his mouth on   
her.

He'd whispered a plea for just a little taste of her, which   
caused a surge of wetness where he pressed his tongue. He'd   
taken advantage of the precious time she'd allowed him,   
burying his mouth against her folds and finding her swollen   
clit immediately.

Scully had ground against him as he devoted his tongue to her   
most sensitive spot. She felt the telltale sparks of climax   
and pushed her hands over his damp head, dragging him up at   
last. She throbbed against the hardness rubbing between her   
legs as he shared a kiss with her, letting her explore her   
taste in his mouth. She'd sucked it from his tongue and   
begged for him to fuck her. He'd moaned when the words left   
her lips, a deep and primal sound that sent her head   
spinning. There had been years of foreplay and this next step   
was far past due. He pushed her down against the couch,   
growling as he entered her.

He'd pushed her legs up over his shoulders and she cried out   
as he filled her fully and deeply. The little coherent   
thought she had left was focused on how his eyes staring   
intently into hers was another kind of lovemaking she'd never   
encountered. She was barely able to utter his name as he   
fucked her, smoothing his hands down her slender, soft legs,   
grabbing her thighs roughly to steady her. He'd waited for   
her to come, sending her there by finding her wet and swollen   
with his fingers. Her muscles ached around him, pulling him   
with her into the deep.

Scully's tears surprised her. Mulder had laid on top of her   
gently, settling between her legs, sticky, cool and tingling.   
She'd clung on to him and buried her face in his shoulder so   
he couldn't see her cry. The tears had come out of nowhere;   
though she knew they were an expected reaction to intense   
joy, it felt unusual and unsettling to her. He'd snuggled   
close, feeling her body shake slightly with a sob. She'd   
lifted her head to meet his eyes and he'd told her it was   
okay to cry. They were lost in a gentle kiss for what felt   
like ages.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

BILLY GOAT TAVERN  
10:01 P.M.

"...And that's how we found out that there really are   
alligators in the New York City sewer system," Doggett   
proudly stated, raising his mug of Guinness. "How's that for   
an X-File?"

Scully shot a sideways glance at Mulder, who eyed her as   
well. Each lifted their beer bottles simultaneously and took   
a long, desperately needed swig.

Monica Reyes humored Doggett, seemingly endeared by the   
heroic telling of his exploits. She tinkled ice cubes around   
her amaretto sour with a little blue plastic sword while she   
smiled generically in his direction.

The four of them sat in a dark corner booth of the pub.   
Apparently, when Doggett said a "few of us" were taking   
Monica out, the few were the three of them. Mulder was   
increasingly, mostly, glad they'd showed. Much more of this   
and Monica would be tendering her resignation tomorrow   
morning.

Mulder sat back and slid an arm around Scully's shoulders.   
She settled into him; it was an unusual gesture in public,   
but she was seeking some sort of comfort from Doggett's   
unabashed stories of epic proportions.

"Thanks for coming out, guys," Monica said, sipping her   
drink. "It means a lot."

"Oh, it was no problem," Mulder assured her.

Doggett finished off his beer and checked his watch. "Well, I   
hate to step out early, but I got a full day tomorrow."

"John!" Monica protested with an impish smile. "You're   
ditching me so early."

"Well...yeah," he admitted. "But I had to take you out to   
party."

Scully let out a little hmmm and Mulder squeezed her   
shoulder, silencing her.

Monica sucked down her drink and rolled the ice around in the   
tumbler. "Are you guys game for another round?" she asked,   
arching her eyebrows. She never went out. She wasn't going   
home until she felt some sort of a buzz.

"Sure," Scully said, smiling at Doggett. "Take care and be   
safe."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

BILLY GOAT TAVERN  
11:21 P.M.

"Scully, I didn't know you even *knew* what a purple hooter   
was." Mulder grinned at her, lounging back on the worn   
polyester booth. He always found it intriguing how Scully's   
cheeks reddened when she had too much to drink. He'd been   
nursing his own vodka tonic a little more slowly than his two   
female drinking partners.

An hour had passed since the straight-laced Agent Doggett had   
departed and the drinks had kept coming. He'd watched Scully   
relax and enjoy herself more as the time passed. It was a   
rare and beautiful sight when she giggled at one of his   
stupid jokes, like really giggled, not just one of those   
tolerant, fake giggles she let out when she pitied him. And   
she wasn't normally one to kick back and suck down odd drinks   
with inappropriate names. It was nice to see her having such   
a good time out.

"Shut up, Mulder," she managed with one of those real   
giggles. She gulped the remainder of the sweet cocktail,   
gagging a bit at the end. Monica laughed and traced her   
finger around the edge of her glass. He'd spent some time   
trying to read Monica tonight, and she was proving to be   
difficult to figure out. She was outwardly energetic and   
friendly, but he couldn't help but sense there was something   
mysterious behind her dark eyes, like she was always   
observing those around her and taking mental notes.

"You guys are nuts," Monica said with a smile, tipping her   
glass so the last drop of amaretto trickled into her mouth.   
"It's like you're married or something."

Mulder cringed and Scully gave him that look. "I'm too good   
for him. And I'm not going to commit to anything until he   
learns how to squeeze a tube of toothpaste," she said. Her   
admission shocked him a bit; she normally didn't insinuate to   
anyone that the two of them may, or may not, have been   
involved in more than a professional sense. Though the first   
toothpaste incident had occurred "on the job," there had   
admittedly been other incidents. More than a few.

He watched Scully. She was apparently feeling a pretty heavy   
buzz. She smiled mischievously at Monica while she revealed   
his more personal details. He decided to play along, feeling   
a tiny thrill at bantering with two intelligent, attractive   
women. Okay, hot women.

"That doesn't matter," he said. "It's only toothpaste. I'm   
not going to commit to anything until you..." He pointed at   
Scully, who looked at him expectantly. "Until you pick up   
your underwear off the bathroom floor after you shower."

"Okay, this is a little more than I need to know," Monica   
said with a laugh, her eyes dancing.

"Mulder, that is none of anybody's business! And anyway, I   
hardly think that the way one squeezes toothpaste and leaving   
underwear on the floor are the same caliber of offense,"   
Scully said, giggling again at her logic.

"You're right...I don't mind picking up your underwear.   
Sometimes it ends up in my bag at work. I don't know how," he   
said, twirling his bottle on the hardwood table and smirking   
at them.

"That's sick!" Monica said, smiling. She twirled her little   
blue plastic sword between her fingers, watching the two of   
them trade insults. More of her incessant observation. She   
was a lot like him in that respect.

"He's a very sick man," Scully agreed. Mulder smiled at her   
for a second, then quickly grabbed the back of her head and   
bestowed upon her a sloppy, wet kiss. She resisted at first,   
but he felt her start to smile against his mouth as she gave   
in.

"Ugh!" She giggled as she wiped the drool from her lip.   
"Mulder! You're such a sloppy kisser." He dropped his hand   
and shrugged.

In a split second, Monica slid her hand to the back of   
Scully's head and pulled her into a kiss. Their lips were   
still against each other for a moment before Scully nudged   
against her mouth, grabbing the back of Monica's hair.

Mulder stared at them, shook his head violently, and stared   
again. He felt his stomach twist, but not a disgusted kind of   
twist. It was rather the kind of twist he got when he watched   
late night pay-per-view in his crappy hotel room while Scully   
was innocently sleeping in the next room over, probably   
naked, or at least in her underwear.

The two women parted lips after seconds that felt like hours   
to him. Scully smiled sheepishly and Monica raised her   
eyebrows to her empty glass with a slow sigh.

Mulder wasn't sure what to say; he knew what he wanted to   
say, something in the manner of "Hell fucking yeah," but he   
didn't say a word. Instead, the three of them sat silently   
for a few minutes, the sound of other parties' drunken   
stupors invading their secluded booth.

"So...I guess this party came to a halt," Mulder said with a   
forced laugh. Monica smiled and glanced at Scully, who was   
absentmindedly sucking her lower lip. "So...my place?"

He surprised himself a bit at his offer, not sure what he   
expected, and not really wanting to think too hard about it   
for fear of losing his cool. Scully looked at him and   
shrugged. "Sure. You've got a great assortment of porn to   
peruse."

Monica laughed and shook her head. "I don't know. It's   
getting late."

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Who are you, John Doggett? We'll   
catch a cab and I'll tell him to come back and get you in a   
few hours. Live a little."

Monica looked at Scully, who gave her an encouraging smile.   
She sighed, throwing her tip money on the table. "Let's go."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MULDER'S APARTMENT  
9:24 A.M.

Monica's cell phone rang a robotic bird chirp, jerking her   
awake. She cringed at the obnoxious intrusion that stirred   
her from a deep sleep. And then the headache hit.

She groaned and lifted herself up, squinting. It was way too   
bright in the room...some room. She realized she was in a   
strange place. A well-worn brown couch, a secondhand coffee   
table.

Chirp...chirp...chirp...

"Where the hell..." she muttered, frantically feeling the   
pockets of her skirt. The chirping stopped. Silence filled   
the room and she rubbed her eyes, head pounding. She'd fallen   
asleep on Mulder's couch, she remembered now. Fallen   
asleep...blacked out...whatever.

Chirp. Her cell phone greeted her again and she spied her   
coat at the end of the couch. She grabbed the phone from the   
side pocket. She knew who was calling and why. And she knew   
how she got to Mulder's place, a fuzzy cab ride with the   
three of them squished in the back, her legs stuck to the   
dirty polyester seats. She let out a deep breath and flicked   
her phone open.

"Reyes."

"Monica! Where the hell are you?"

"Good morning, John...It's late. I know. I slept late."

"Your car's still at the bar! What'd you do, pass out in the   
bathroom or something?"

She sucked in a sharp breath. "I took a cab home."

"And missed the 8:30 meeting."

"Yes." Dad. "And missed the meeting." She glanced at Mulder's   
clock. "I'll be in...soon. I just have to shower."

Catch a cab to the bar, drive home, freak out, shower.

"See you then," he replied, hanging up.

Thank God, she thought drowsily, running her hands through   
her hair and shaking her head. Memories of the night before   
began flowing through her mind like rushing water.   
Excitement...curiosity...and then there was that incident   
between the three of them.

She'd never imagined Mulder had a mirror over his bed.

"Huh," she said to the coffee table in front of her. A chill   
ran down her spine as she visualized a few of the more   
pertinent details of what had transpired. She was completely   
confused, abhorrently hung over, and something else she   
couldn't quite put her finger on.

She groaned, at her headache, at the imagery. Enough   
reminiscing for now.

She rose from the couch and threw on her coat. The blood   
pounded through her forehead, berating her for her   
irresponsibility. What were you thinking? You weren't. What   
were you doing? Well, that's pretty damn obvious.

Now what?

Go home, Monica.

She searched for her shoes but they were nowhere to be found.   
Oh God, she thought. They're in the bedroom.

She began to think maybe nobody was in the apartment. It was   
so quiet. Maybe they went to get coffee or the paper. Or they   
went to work without her.

Monica peered into Mulder's bedroom. Her shoes had   
haphazardly landed against his closet door. Scully and Mulder   
were in his bed. She realized they were still naked, curled   
up into each other. Her breath caught in her throat as her   
eyes passed over them. She shook it off, collected her shoes   
and quickly left, easing the apartment door closed on her way   
out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder heard Monica's phone ring and stirred in bed. At first   
alarmed, then annoyed, he realized what the chirping was. He   
tightened his arm around Scully's waist and she muttered   
something indecipherable. He could feel his pulse in his   
temples, evidence of one or two too many beers at Monica's   
party.

Monica's party.

Afterparty sponsored by Fox Mulder.

Scenes flashed through his mind like a filmstrip of   
unimaginable scenarios. Kisses, bare skin, new scents,   
excitement, wonder, jealousy. The way Scully had looked at   
him, her eyes a shade darker.

"Fuck," he uttered into her soft tousled hair. He sighed and   
thought of his ibuprofen, so far away in the medicine   
cabinet.

Monica had left without saying a word. He was a little   
relieved and perplexed.

Stop thinking.

He hoped that when the gravity of the situation hit...well,   
hopefully there'd be no gravity at all. He was pretty damn   
sure this was one incident he'd be happy to sweep under his   
rug, if there was enough room left. But a small part of him   
wavered, not willing to let it go so easily.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MULDER'S APARTMENT  
12:15 P.M.

Scully woke up to a feeling not unlike hitting her forehead   
against a brick wall. Not that she'd actually done it, but it   
had to hurt just as badly.

She felt Mulder's long body lining her back, his skin damp   
with sweat against her own. She forced her eyes open to see   
it was already past noon.

"Jesus," she groaned, pushing her bottom back into Mulder's   
hips. "Mulder. Mulder. Mulder. It's late." She wiggled around   
in his tight embrace, realizing it was lunchtime on Tuesday   
and they were stark naked in bed. "Mul-der."

"Personal day," he muttered. "Don't make me open my eyes,   
Scully. I'm not sure that I can."

She relaxed a bit, defeated. Too much hard liquor last night.   
Those damned mixed drinks with the funny names. A dull pang   
of anxiety hit her deep in the stomach. It wasn't just the   
overindulgence. She suddenly remembered everything from last   
night. What she thought was everything. Enough to make her   
wonder if it was all a really messed up dream.

"Mulder, where's Monica?"

"She left," Mulder groaned, stretching out his legs with a   
sigh. "Doggett was probably on her ass."

"She didn't say anything?"

"No," Mulder said. "What exactly did you think she would say?   
Thanks for the memories?"

Scully wasn't amused by his juvenile quip. In fact, she felt   
unusually irritable. "Mulder...I'm going to get up and   
shower."

He pulled her closer and nuzzled her neck. "We could stay in   
bed all day. We've never done that."

"Not today," she murmured. She slid out of his embrace and   
headed for the bathroom. He watched her slight, naked frame   
until she shut the door behind her.

Scully looked at herself in the mirror, a bit mystified by   
the reflection that glared back. She looked like she'd been   
drinking the night before. A lot. She felt like she'd been   
drinking a lot. When she couldn't bear to look any longer,   
she stepped into Mulder's shower, the water as hot as she   
could stand it.

Steam rolled around her body, a welcome embrace to comfort   
the telltale muscular ache of dehydration. She let the water   
pour over her forehead, temporary alleviating the pain deep   
in her temples.

The night before, well, about eight hours before, felt like a   
dream. Something that she'd never expected to happen and   
couldn't possibly have prepared for, despite her tendency for   
preplanning. Something came alive inside of her last night at   
the bar and then afterward. She'd been bipolar, both sides   
overcoming her at different times. Excitement and dread.   
Arousal and jealousy. Comfort and anger.

Scully let the hot current flow over her a little longer   
before she couldn't take it anymore.

When she came out in the towel he expressly reserved for her,   
he was sitting up on the side of his bed in a fresh pair of   
boxers. She paused in the bathroom doorway, feeling   
uncomfortably exposed.

"We need to talk," she said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MULDER'S APARTMENT  
EIGHT HOURS EARLIER

Mulder had an extremely hard time fumbling with his keys at   
the door to his apartment. Scully watched him, her head   
fuzzy, overly amused at his state. "You got it?" she asked as   
he finally fit the key in the lock.

"Yeah, thanks for the help," he said, pushing it open and   
flicking on the light. He tossed the keys to the kitchen   
counter.

Scully noticed Monica lagging back a bit and grabbed her   
wrist. "Come on. I'll give you the grand tour." She pulled   
Monica along a bit. She wasn't resisting, but seemed to be a   
little tentative about being there. Scully caught her eyes   
and smiled, wanting Monica to trust her and relax. Monica   
smiled back, scanning the apartment and its fairly organized   
contents.

"There's nothing really grand about it," Mulder said, walking   
over to his fridge and pulling it open. "But go ahead. I'm   
starving."

"That's great," Scully answered. "Fix us something to eat,   
and I'll show her around."

"Why are you giving tours of my apartment? Are you at least   
charging admission?" Mulder responded, bending over and   
pushing aside various bottles, cans and takeout food   
containers. Scully rolled her eyes and didn't answer, hoping   
that he could at least find some chips, with bonus points for   
salsa that wasn't moldy.

"I didn't know you were a pet enthusiast," Monica said,   
eyeing the fish tank in the living room. "How many fish do   
you have, Agent Mulder?"

"I lost track. They just keep propagating and dying and   
propagating again," he said. "But a couple of them are pretty   
damn resilient and stick around for some reason."

"The big one's Sparky," Scully told Monica as they approached   
the tank.

"Sparky?" Monica repeated.

"Don't ask," Mulder called from the kitchen.

"He's kind of a lazy fish," Scully said, realizing Monica   
probably didn't give a damn about the fish. But it was her   
way of getting around the odd nervousness she felt.

Scully had spent the cab ride to Mulder's apartment thinking,   
okay, obsessing, about the unusual kiss she'd shared with   
Monica at the tavern. She'd been a little shocked at first   
when she felt soft lips pressed against her own, a little   
nervous about their surroundings and the fact that Mulder was   
right there, probably floored. In fact, he'd probably nearly   
injured himself by the speed of his erection under the table.

But then she forgot about everything outside of the bit of   
flesh that connected her to Monica. The alcohol had left her   
warm, but she felt her body get warmer in places usually   
reserved for her thoughts of Mulder. She'd felt the tiny   
flick of Monica's tongue against her lips and nearly jumped   
out of her seat. And then it was over and they were riding   
along in the cab like nothing happened. They were just going   
to go watch Nosferatu or some atrocious movie at Mulder's   
place.

She was curious as to why he'd offered to have both of them   
over. She knew him well enough to know that he'd watch them   
kiss again at the drop of a hat. But there was something   
inherently odd about it. Would he get jealous? She knew the   
idea of Mulder kissing someone else pissed her off. But maybe   
women were different to him.

Her mind was flooded with all of the things she wished she   
could discuss with him before anything else happened. She   
could facilitate a two-hour lecture on the importance of   
communication in relationships and the unintended   
complications of treading new, potentially dangerous waters.

But for now, she was drunk, hungry as hell, turned on, and   
extremely curious about the woman standing next to her,   
staring absentmindedly at Mulder's dumb fish.

Scully had a seat on the couch and Monica set next to her,   
perusing the random assortment of books scattered across his   
coffee table.

"Don't you ever read anything for fun?" Monica asked, picking   
up a book. "What's with 'The New Steinerbrooks Dictionary of   
the Paranormal?'"

"That's a classic," Mulder said, entering the living room   
with a glass in each hand. They looked like orange juice, but   
Scully knew him better.

"Mulder! I said food. Not screwdrivers," Scully said.   
"Seriously. No more alcohol."

He set the glasses down on the coffee table and she quickly   
grabbed a coaster and slipped it under her drink. "Scully,   
you've been around long enough to know that I don't keep food   
here. I suppose I could call Wang's," he answered.

She laughed; she couldn't help it. He was such a lost cause.   
No amount of grooming she attempted on him would change it.   
"Could I just get some water?" she asked.

"I'm all about the water," Monica agreed, leaning back on the   
couch. Mulder picked up the glasses with a sigh and retreated   
to the kitchen.

"I've got an 8:30 meeting with Agent Doggett," Monica said,   
paging through the book she'd picked up. "Think I'll make   
it?"

Scully smiled. "You can leave, you know. It's no big deal."

Monica glanced at her and returned the smile. Scully felt an   
unexpected twinge ripple through her body as they both looked   
away.

"Two waters, coming right up," Mulder said, placing them on   
the table. "Rehydrate. I don't want any loss of productivity   
tomorrow."

"Today." Scully took a gulp of the cool water. She was damn   
thirsty.

"Right," he answered, plopping down on the other side of   
Scully. She felt him slide the palm of his hand along her   
lower back, slipping a finger under the waist of her jeans.   
She looked at him and he tried to pass off the most innocent   
look he could manage. "So...I've got movies, incredibly   
stimulating coffee table books, as you've discovered, Agent   
Reyes..."

"Just Monica," Monica said, tossing the book back on the   
table. Scully felt Monica shift on the couch beside her; she   
seemed unusually nervous. She wondered if the kiss had   
bothered her that much.

"Okay, just Monica," Mulder said, flicking on the TV. "Have   
you ever seen Nosferatu?"

Scully rolled her eyes. "Mulder, she's your guest. You don't   
make your guests watch Nosferatu."

"Scully. It's cinematic genius," Mulder said, "and it just so   
happens to be in my DVD player."

"I don't care what we watch," Monica said, stretching her   
arms out in front of her. Her movement was slow, like a lazy   
cat getting the kinks out. Scully caught herself watching a   
little too long. Mulder turned the movie on and queued up   
some random scene he must save for extra special occasions   
like these.

His fingers traced Scully's waistband, tickling her. She   
resisted the urge to squirm as he traced letters on her back.   
They'd gotten good at that little game, guessing words and   
phrases spelled out against their sensitive skin. He traced   
the letters S-E-X-Y and she laughed, shaking her head.

"What?" he asked quietly, his fingers running up her spine.   
She shivered as they continued through the back of her hair.   
She wanted to tell him to knock it off, but then, she really   
didn't want him to stop at all. His touch was electric.   
Mulder could wind her up with the simplest brush of his   
fingertips.

His careful fingers traced her ear and brushed away her hair.   
Scully glanced sideways at Monica, who was staring at the   
movie with the most perplexed look Scully had ever seen on   
her face.

Mulder's lips caressed her neck. "You behave," she whispered.   
Each spot he kissed ached for more. He hummed softly against   
her neck with a nibble.

Scully closed her eyes and sighed, arousal slowly spreading   
as he continued exploring. She felt the hair on the other   
side of her face being pushed aside. Hot breath met her skin.   
Scully gasped, feeling Monica's lips on the side of her neck.

Mulder and Monica treated the sides of her neck very   
differently; he was a nibbler, she was a kisser, using her   
tongue to lightly flick against the juncture of her neck and   
shoulder. And Scully was suddenly throbbing between her legs,   
letting her head fall back a bit to the dueling sides.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Monica didn't know quite how she ended up with her mouth on   
Scully's neck. She'd been sitting next to her on the couch,   
their thighs brushing together slightly. The past ten minutes   
in Mulder's apartment had been a little tense for her; not   
tense in a bad way, but she was curious as to his motives for   
inviting her back to his place. She didn't really see Dana   
and Fox as swinger types, but three adults heading back to   
somebody's bachelor pad for some after-drinking drinks   
implied something a little more than watching some ghastly   
vampire movie.

At the tavern, granted she'd had a few drinks under her belt,   
she'd been watching Scully all night. She was someone Monica   
deeply admired, for her professionalism, her strength, her   
willingness to fight, even while Mulder went unexplainably   
missing and showed up dead. And alive again. The woman never   
gave up. And Monica had unable to resist being drawn to that   
energy, sometimes feeding off of it for her own gain.

But at the tavern she couldn't help but notice how Scully   
seemed to exude something irresistible. The way she pushed   
her hair back, pretending nobody was watching her. The way   
she wrinkled her nose at the pungent vodka in her drink. The   
looks she gave Mulder were of a specific kind of intensity,   
whether she was making fun of him or watching his eyes wander   
to another woman in the room. There was no way the two of   
them weren't fucking.

When Mulder had kissed Scully in front of her, something   
inside of Monica pulled taut. She felt jealous for no good   
reason. Monica wanted it too, to know what Scully tasted like   
and felt like in a more intimate way. So after he was done,   
she'd taken her turn at the kissing. Her audacity was   
surprising, but she had little time to think before arousal   
kicked into full gear. Scully's hair drifting through her   
fingers was as silken as her lips as they responded to   
Monica's mouth. When it ended, and Scully glanced at Mulder   
with that innocent-yet-playful look in her eyes, Monica   
wanted more.

And then when they settled into the couch for the movie,   
Mulder started prompting Scully into action on the couch with   
his mouth and hands. There was no way Monica couldn't have   
noticed. It was almost like he was challenging her to act   
again. And act she would.

Monica's tongue tracing the tender line of Scully's slender   
neck elicited a gasp from deep inside of her. The scent of an   
understated perfume, citrus and air, became stronger as she   
moved her mouth to Scully's ear. She probably dabbed it there   
every morning after her shower.

Monica's eyes were drawn to Mulder's fingers stroking   
Scully's lower back, under the waistband of her jeans. Monica   
slid her fingers over Scully's sharp jaw line, turning her   
face so that she could kiss her again. He could have her   
back; there was a hot and needy mouth to claim in front.

Scully responded immediately to Monica's lips, parting her   
own and pulling Monica's head closer. Their tongues slid   
together and Scully moaned into her mouth. This caught   
Mulder's attention as he lifted his head from the other side   
of Scully's neck.

"Hey," he said as they kissed. Monica wanted to ignore him,   
but as always, Scully listened to her partner, pulling away   
and turning her head to look at him.

"I don't know what we're doing," Scully said, settling back   
on the couch with a sigh. Monica caught Mulder's eyes grazing   
over her, a little too curious. Mulder was amazingly   
attractive, but could be overbearing and downright obnoxious   
at times. She tended to avoid that type of guy, having had   
one too many experiences with them in the past. She could   
tell that the second kiss had sparked a little more jealousy   
in him. Jealousy, curiosity perhaps.

"Well, I could tell you what it seems like we're doing,"   
Mulder said, leaning back with Scully, an arm along the top   
of the couch. Scully looked at him quizzically.

"Maybe I should get going," Monica said, offering Scully an   
out. It was only fair.

The three of them sat uncomfortably on the couch, silence   
broken by a piercing Hollywood scream from the vampire movie   
still playing across from them.

"I didn't give you the full tour," Scully said finally. Their   
eyes met.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder had stopped kissing Scully's neck when he realized   
Scully was kissing someone else. Was it odd to him that   
Monica Reyes was making out with his partner? Absolutely.

Did it bother him? Not in the typical definition of bother.

Did it excite him? That was pretty damn obvious from the   
pulsing, full feeling in his jeans.

This was the second time Scully and Monica had kissed, and   
both times Scully had seemed pretty into it, which surprised   
him. She'd had quite a few drinks, but he also knew it took a   
lot more than that to get the lovely Dr. Scully to shed her   
inhibitions. He'd tried it a number of ways, some successful,   
some not. He took mental note of the apparent fact that mixed   
drinks plus another attractive female FBI agent equaled some   
sort of deeply seated interest in exploring the equalities   
one's same gender.

He felt a little jealous, but mostly intrigued at how far   
Scully was interested in taking this. Monica seemed willing   
to go down that road as far as it allowed.

So when Scully mentioned giving Monica the "full tour," it   
sent little sparks off in his head. Both heads, actually.

"Sure, finish the tour," Monica responded, rising from the   
couch. She walked over to the kitchen counter with her empty   
glass, filling it at the sink. Scully got up and nudged   
Mulder's leg with hers.

"Are you coming?" Scully asked, arching an eyebrow at him.   
Mulder's metaphorical jaw hit the floor. He was speechless   
for a moment, motionless, until he forced himself up off of   
the sinking cushions.

"Do you...want me to come?" he said. She tilted her head up   
and gave him a deep kiss.

"Come and be with me," Scully answered against his lips.   
"It's going to be fine."

Mulder watched her as she walked over to Monica. "He's got   
more closet space than I do," Scully said to her, taking her   
hand and leading her into the bedroom. Mulder followed her   
like a puppy dog lost.

He followed Scully and Monica into the bedroom, for Scully's   
express purpose of showing Monica around, of course. No other   
reason. At all. He was sure Monica was adequately impressed   
by the mountain of dirty clothes in the corner, the pile of   
files on his dresser. At least he'd made his bed yesterday   
morning.

There was nothing unusual or important about his modestly   
appointed one-bedroom, except for the fact that Scully seemed   
to have some sort of dead-set agenda involving Monica. And he   
was going to find out what it was.

The Scully he knew wasn't known for her spontaneity,   
especially when it came to sex. He'd learned that over a dry   
spell that lasted him about five years longer than he cared   
to admit. When he finally decided he couldn't take it any   
more and practically attacked her in his apartment a few   
months ago, it was only then that she'd let herself go   
completely. There was a wild little Scully animal inside of   
her just waiting to be let out.

Each time got easier as they grew more comfortable with each   
other in new ways. So to see her so uninhibited tonight was   
puzzling and erotic, and he watched it like a David Lynch   
film, wondering when the next twist would be.

As if on cue, Mulder was plagued by the incessant,   
unavoidable urge to pee. It seemed like good timing, to maybe   
leave the two women alone to...talk. So he left Scully   
pointlessly showing Monica his ample closet space. He closed   
the door and immediately wondered what else Scully was   
showing her. Mulder took his time, washing his hands for once   
and arranging some randomly placed toiletries. He hoped that   
if he waited long enough, he'd interrupt something   
interesting.

Minutes ticked by. Mulder started feeling nervous about what   
he'd find and knew he should return to the bedroom. Part of   
him wanted them to be sitting in the living room again, idly   
chatting over their glasses of cool tap water. The other,   
more prominent part of him would give anything to find Scully   
and Monica playing naked twister on top of his blue down   
comforter.

He finally opened the door. The two women weren't idly   
chitchatting, that was for damn sure. Not quite playing naked   
twister, but well on their way. He felt a bit dizzy as his   
blood flow rapidly and desperately switched direction to a   
more appropriate area for the occasion.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully was tightly pressed against Monica's naked body, fingers   
tangled in her hair, the warmth between them mysteriously   
comforting. Their kisses were slow and deliberate, their   
scents mixed together. The aftertaste of liquor was deeply   
present in their mouths. But Scully felt unusually lucid for   
her drunken state, every nerve in her body aware of the   
smooth skin of the body next to hers.

It didn't take long once Mulder left the room for she and   
Monica to start pulling furiously at each others' clothes,   
their mouths hotly joined again, hands everywhere. When   
they'd slid onto the bed together, Mulder had been in the   
bathroom, but now he was in the room, she could sense it. He   
was just out of her peripheral view. She knew him, and that   
he was most likely watching the events unfold. Part of that   
excited her, another made her feel uneasy, a little invaded.

Monica let her long fingers slowly slide down Scully's back,   
sending a chill down her spine. Monica reacted with hot   
breath against her neck. Their eyes met as they kissed again,   
checking for assurance. She cupped Scully's bottom and   
squeezed it, sending a jolt through her body. Scully let her   
hand dwindle down tentatively to one of Monica's breasts and   
was surprised at the moan that escaped both of their throats   
when she pushed her palm against the sensitive flesh of her   
nipple.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a slow and curious dance, with calculated motions that   
sent tiny sparks shuddering between them. Monica rubbed   
Scully's hip in circles, not sure where to go from there.   
Scully tasted, smelled, and felt beautiful, intriguing, but   
dangerously off-limits at the same time.

It'd caught Monica by surprise when she felt Mulder's warm,   
muscular body push up against her back, his naked hardness   
readily pressed against her ass. She'd paused in her kiss   
with Scully, long enough for her to notice. Mulder's mouth   
slid across against her bare shoulder, tickling with moist   
breath. She watched Scully's eyes, detected a slight shift in   
the balance of her energy. It was questioning, challenging,   
unsteady. Monica wished she could see his eyes in return.

Mulder's lips arrived against Monica's ear, his voice barely   
audible. "Is this okay?" he asked, fingers tickling down her   
side to her hip. She gasped slightly, feeling herself grow   
liquidly hot at the tone of his voice and the touch of his   
hand. His hips pushed gently against hers. "Tell me when,   
Monica. It's up to you."

Realization of what he meant hit her dull in the pit of her   
stomach. She felt butterflies, anxious excitement, and cloudy   
arousal at his proposal. They were toeing a very incendiary   
line. She searched Scully's eyes deeply, wondering as she   
watched her watch Mulder.

Scully exhaled deeply against Monica's lips before pressing   
their mouths together again, wide open and exploring.   
Scully's kissed were addicting. Mulder's hands roamed the   
slender length of Monica's body while he nibbled on her neck   
and ears.

It felt like a slow-motion tumble down the face of a   
mountain. Scully grabbed the back of Monica's head, kissing   
her more deeply. Monica felt her hips responding to both   
sides, parting slightly to Mulder. She slid her hand between   
Scully's legs with sudden urgency.

Scully whimpered against Monica's mouth as she slid her   
fingers through the heated wetness she found there. They   
broke their kiss to moan together when Monica slipped a   
finger into her, then two. Mulder found Monica wet for him as   
well and pushed his hardness through her slick folds.   
Monica's mouth dropped open, panting as he found her ready.   
He filled her tightly, almost too tightly, as she tensed   
against the slight tug of latex she felt as he entered her.   
Heady with arousal, she gave in completely, her fingers and   
thumb teasing Scully and inciting a roll of her hips.

Mulder bit Monica's shoulder as he began his slow thrusts,   
pushing her against Scully's body. Monica matched his rhythm   
with her fingers, sliding in and out of Scully, while giving   
her more sweetly slow kisses.

Scully felt Monica's body push against hers, her skin   
tingling under her skillful fingers. She opened her eyes and   
realized Mulder was having sex with the woman pressed against   
her. Scully felt something sick rise in her throat and she   
choked it back down. Monica pulled away from her lips to moan   
loudly at Mulder's intensifying movements.

Scully's body went dead and refused to respond to the gentle   
prompting of agile fingers. She watched Mulder's face   
instead, intense, focused on his mission. She knew that face   
well. The dedication in his eyes, his gentle moaning. It was   
usually reserved for her.

She didn't expect him to come. He growled deeply when he did,   
buried deep inside of Monica. Scully closed her eyes to a   
silent, violent shattering like she'd squeezed a glass in her   
hand until it broke.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MULDER'S APARTMENT  
1:30 P.M.

Scully was pacing and Mulder was watching from his couch. Her   
steps slow, deliberate, and wandering. From the bedroom to   
the kitchen to his desk. Picking up a paperweight and   
examining it. From her desk to the doorway to the bathroom.   
Straightening the towels on the bar. Thoughts were working   
their way through her troubled mind as her movement kept them   
flowing smoothly.

"I'm not going to sit here and watch you wear a path into my   
carpet," he finally said, tossing the remote to the coffee   
table. It glinted off of the wood and thudded to the floor.   
She stopped immediately, her stare dead set, eyes burning   
through him.

"You do realize what happened last night," Scully said.

"I have a pretty good idea," Mulder answered. Apparently the   
gravity he'd hoped to avoid was about to hit full force. He   
watched her, concerned. He never wanted her to do anything   
she didn't want to, but she had seemed okay with everything   
that happened at the time. "What's wrong, Scully?"

"What's wrong, Mulder, is that I think you pushed things a   
little too far, literally and figuratively," she said,   
clearing her throat. He could tell she was already struggling   
to keep her composure. "And I'm not sure what to think of   
it."

Mulder sighed, fiddling with his watch. "Well, it happened.   
We can't change that. Chalk it up to intoxication, I   
suppose." When the words came out, he knew it would take only   
a few seconds for tropical storm Dana to evolve into a   
Category Five hurricane.

Scully's mouth dropped open slightly. "So that's it, then.   
You were drunk. Let's move on."

Mulder knew the tone of her voice. He was treading in   
dangerous waters with no way back to shore.

"I thought we were all okay with everything," he said at long   
last. He watched Scully implode.

"You're lucky I have the self-control that I do. Or else I   
would have hit you already."

Her soft and furious words stung like her fist had already   
connected. Mulder rose off the couch, heading for the   
bedroom. "I won't give you the opportunity to try. I'm going   
to shower."

Scully followed him closely on his way through the bedroom.   
"Mulder?"

He turned around and her hand slapped against his cheek. He   
nearly lost his balance but regained his composure to grab   
her wrist, and the other as it came up to threaten the left   
side of his face. He pushed them down to her sides as his   
face pulsed heat. Scully struggled against his strength and   
he held his ground, trying to ride it out before he had any   
more slips of the tongue.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" she yelled, eyes welling   
up with tears. Her pain filled him as well; he felt a pang of   
regret but also anger at her reaction. All he'd done was join   
in, and there'd been no rules set against that.

"What the...what the fuck was I thinking? What are you   
talking about?" he asked, his hands tightly gripping her   
wrists.

She sniffled, anger rippling through her voice. "You can't be   
serious," she retorted. "Honestly, Mulder. You know what you   
did."

He rolled his eyes and scoffed angrily at her. "Of course I   
know what I did. I know what you did too, Scully. You can't   
pin this one all on me," he said, his voice low and   
threatening. Their faces were inches apart and they exchanged   
glares. "I happen to remember you being quite reciprocal with   
Monica when this all started. Quite reciprocal," he repeated,   
emphasizing each syllable like the hot prick of a needle.

Scully's chest heaved, eyes wild with passionate contempt and   
confusion. "You certainly didn't seem to mind at the time,"   
she said, embarrassed and defensive. She breathed hard as   
Mulder chewed on the side of his cheek, studying her tear-  
threatened eyes. She yanked her wrists and he let them free   
so she could rub them, taking her distance from him.

"Scully, I'm not going to defend my actions from last night,   
but I'm not going to let you crucify me for them, either." He   
leaned his back against the bedroom wall.

Scully crossed her arms in front of her, her gaze shifting to   
the carpet. "You know what bothers me about it? We waited so   
long, Mulder. I waited for you. I waited for you to notice   
me, to act on that something we had, for the longest time. I   
could barely take it sometimes."

He felt the prickle of tears, threatening to tumble despite   
his best efforts at holding them back.

"And then, when we finally..." She paused, meeting his eyes,   
the anger swelling in her voice. "It was everything to me. No   
one had ever made me feel the way you do. And I thought   
nobody ever could again. It felt perfect, like we wouldn't,   
or couldn't, want anyone else. Ever. At least I felt that   
way. And now it's like none of that matters."

"What do you mean, it doesn't matter?" he asked. Anxiety   
rippled his body, shaking him to his core. He'd felt the same   
way she did every time they were together. She completed him   
in unimaginable ways. Scully rubbed her hands over her folded   
arms, goose bumps rising.

"Because then you fucked Monica, Mulder. How long did it take   
you to make that decision last night? A couple of hours? A   
few minutes?"

She'd barely whispered the words, words that sucked the last   
of his breath from his chest. They hung between the two of   
them for too long of an instant.

"I don't know what to say, Scully."

"I do. I hope it was special for you."

"Scully..."

"Mulder, I'm leaving."

"Don't do this."

Scully turned her back to him and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

MULDER'S APARTMENT  
1:45 P.M.

Scully had slammed Mulder's apartment door shut and then   
furiously punched the down button at the elevator. She   
realized her car was cozily parked at home. She closed her   
eyes and the few tears that had welled up slid down her face.   
She angrily wiped them away and exhaled, letting out all of   
the air she'd stored inside. She'd been afraid to let it out   
because the sheer force of it might cause her entire world to   
collapse around her.

It didn't.

The elevator doors opened and closed with a squeak. She hit   
the button again, entering the elevator and looking up the   
number for Yellow Cab on her phone. There was no way in hell   
she'd go back in there and ask him for a ride.

Scully was angry at how indignantly Mulder had defended having   
sex with Monica. She knew part of him was defensive, not   
wanting to get on her bad side. It was easier to blame it on   
the both of them than to take responsibility for his decision.   
She wasn't sure he regretted as much as he implied. Maybe this   
was just his way of getting away with being with someone else.

After all of those years where he could have, and did at   
times, go fuck around with another person, she'd thought he'd   
had enough time. That when they finally gave in to each other,   
it would be the end of everybody else. It had been for her.

It took a good fifteen minutes for a taxi to show up. She   
waited impatiently at the curb, kicking leaves, checking her   
old text messages, doing anything to keep herself from looking   
up at his window. When she finally gave in and glanced up, she   
saw him watching her. She pretended not to notice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING  
4:00 P.M.

The lump in Monica's throat grew as she rode the elevator down   
to the basement. She wasn't sure who she'd find or if she   
wanted to find anyone at all. She felt herself drawn there,   
restless for conclusions and answers to burning questions that   
had shaken her so deeply during the hours since she'd left   
Mulder's apartment. The night had left her mind clouded with   
an energy desperate to be spent.

She peered into the open door and saw Mulder sitting on his   
chair, feet up on the desk and hands behind his head. He was   
lost in thought, staring blankly into a far corner, probably   
farther than the room allowed.

"Agent Mulder?"

Nothing moved but his eyes. They met hers with slow   
recognition. She couldn't read anything but lost. It took him   
a second to snap him out of it.

"Agent Reyes?"

Monica stood at the door, not sure why she was expecting an   
invitation to come in and make herself at home. Not normally   
one to be self-conscious, she felt a nervous tension between   
them that was most likely explained by the fact that they had   
seen each other naked several hours earlier. Mulder's sigh was   
deep as his feet fell to the floor. He gestured and she   
followed his lead, approaching the desk.

"I just...I wasn't sure who would be down here," she said,   
occupying her hands by sliding silver rings over her slender   
fingers.

"Nobody's ever down here but me, Monica."

"Well, you and Scully."

Mulder's eyebrows rose. "Were you looking for her?"

Monica's breath left her in a hurry. "That's not what I meant.   
Either of you was fine."

His eyes wandered over her body before he gave her a quizzical   
look. She shifted on her feet.

"You want to know why I?m here," she finally said. He smiled,   
picking up a pen and twirling it in his fingers.

"I want to know why it's so awkward," he replied with a shrug.

"I?m sorry. This is so..." She faltered, at a strange loss for   
words. Mulder's nonchalant fiddling intrigued her and pissed   
her off at the same time. She tapped his desk once with her   
fingers. "The last thing I want is for this to be awkward. I   
just wanted to come down and let you know that...I don't want   
last night to disrupt anything. To change anything, send   
anything off-balance."

"I agree," Mulder answered. She had never seen him quite so   
uncomfortable in his own skin. "It happened, and we can leave   
it at that. Not trying to be rude, but I've found that   
dwelling too much on things like this never benefits anyone."

Monica nodded but studied him, knowing that he'd already built   
a wall between them. He wasn't going to talk about what   
happened between them besides acknowledging what had happened   
in the most generic sense possible. She didn't know what she'd   
expected. She knew there was a side of him that cared, but he   
wasn't going to show it.

"Have a good evening," she said faintly, watching him twirl   
the pen over and over.

She left the office feeling unsettled and unfinished. He   
resumed his reclining position, examining the corner like   
something was going to give way.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MONICA'S APARTMENT  
12:00 A.M.

Monica tossed under her sheets, unable to sleep. The traffic   
outside her bedroom window was more invasive than usual. She   
sighed as the ticking of her kitchen clock counted away the   
spent seconds of her life.

There were so many things to be disturbed about that she   
couldn't focus on just one. They flitted through her mind like   
angry mosquitoes, buzzing around, occasionally landing and   
sucking the life's blood out of her.

She was pissed about Mulder's couldn't-care-less attitude when   
she walked into his office earlier. It had been extremely   
contrived and disgustingly fake. She detested people who   
pulled that shit. She'd had enough of it in her life. She   
didn't know what to expect from him, but since they'd fucked   
the night before, a simple, "How ya doin'?" would have   
sufficed. When she entered the office she'd cemented her   
thoughts on the mistake she'd made the night before. But she   
wasn't getting anywhere with him. His mind was somewhere else,   
most likely on the red-headed party to their complicated   
situation.

If he was going to be a bitch about it, he could do so on his   
own time. But she was more deeply worried about Scully's   
reaction to everything that had happened. Their kiss at the   
bar had been unusually electric. Monica had let her take the   
lead when they'd arrived at Mulder's apartment, and Scully   
hadn't had a problem pushing it a little further than Monica   
had expected or even gone before. But the entire time it had   
felt comfortable, blissful, nearly peaceful.

Things probably would have been all right if Mulder hadn't   
been there. Monica, though completely inebriated at the time,   
had seen the flash of jealousy that had passed over Scully's   
face like a thunderstorm threatening rain. It made Monica   
extremely uneasy when she realized what Mulder's intentions   
were. But Monica didn't stop him, didn't want to stop him.   
Over the day she'd realized it wasn't her interaction with   
Mulder that she didn't want to end. She'd clung onto Scully,   
lost deep inside of her, amazed at the simple pleasure and   
connection she felt between them. He was peripheral,   
unnecessary, but overbearingly present.

She glanced at her clock, her toes twiddling. She was never   
one to hold back anything. It often got her into trouble,   
mouthing off, saying how she really felt. Not giving a rat's   
ass about the reactions she'd face. But now there was an   
inkling of uncertainty in her heart, sparse with fear. But the   
root of it was positive. She just had to get there.

She slid out of bed and reached for her phone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The phone rang Scully out of a troubled sleep. She'd skipped   
the entire day of work, instead passing the time watching   
daytime television and ordering out for Chinese. She didn't   
want to think about him, about anyone, didn't want to see   
anyone. Today, she was choosing talk shows instead of reality   
because all reality did was piss her off.

She'd passed out on top of her comforter with her cell phone   
in her hand. She glanced at the clock and groaned at the   
extremely inappropriate hour for phone conversation. Only one   
person she knew would call at this hour and at this point, she   
wasn't sure she wanted to speak to him.

She answered the phone with silence, like hello wasn't enough   
and too much at the same time.

"Dana?"

"Hi," she answered softly, surprised and relieved at who it   
was.

"Hi," Monica said. "Listen...I'm coming over."

"Monica..." Scully shifted nervously onto her side. "I'm not   
sure that's a good idea."

"Well, good idea or not, we need to talk. Things aren't right.   
You know what I mean."

Scully tried to remember the last time things felt right.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully stood in her kitchen doing absolutely nothing. She'd   
wandered there after the call had ended, after Monica said she   
was heading over. Her fingernails tapped against the tile   
countertop as she leaned over it, wondering what her next move   
would be. No matter what she tried, this whole situation   
wasn't going to go away quickly or easily.

Throughout the eight years she and Mulder had been together,   
she'd grown intensely aware of the fact that in some undefined   
way, they belonged together. Some days it was as friends,   
sometimes like siblings. Other times as headstrong   
counterweights to each other's crazy ideas. Well, mostly his   
crazy ideas.

Lately, the turn they'd taken as lovers had seemed not just   
inevitable but necessary. Knowing what they knew, seeing what   
they'd seen, they'd resorted to clinging to each other, inside   
of each other, all over each other. A natural progression of   
male and female, animalistic, passionate, and intuitive.   
They'd never breached the subject of love but it was   
understood with a glance, a brush of fingertips, a fixed stare   
as they moved together silently on his unmade bed amidst   
crumpled sheets.

It was there and it was everything she needed. Textbook, the   
perfect relationship. Mulder would do anything for her. He   
would die for her, at times he'd implied that he'd die without   
her. She'd thought he was the missing part to her puzzle, to   
compliment the perfect parts she'd been carefully arranging   
into a portrait of the ideal life of Dana Scully.

That's why what had transpired the night before had shocked   
her to the core. Every thought about how special she was to   
him, every time he'd told her she was beautiful, the most   
beautiful, came into question. Instead of filling her with   
warmth, the recollection of his admonitions now stung like   
tiny needles of doubt.

Scully knew she was partially responsible for things falling   
into place as they'd done with Monica. She'd kissed her,   
enjoyed it, kept kissing her, kept enjoying it. It had   
surprised her and shaken her. Monica had let up, let her   
decide where to go and how to get there. Scully wanted to feel   
her all over, how different she was, to absorb the glow of her   
presence that sucked her in immediately. But then there was   
Mulder, sidelined at first, but apparently anxious to become   
part of the experience.

Scully wasn't sure what angered her the most. Seeing him all   
over Monica hurt deeply, like it cut out a piece of her heart   
that she'd saved implicitly for him. It made her nauseous. If   
he felt the need to have sex with somebody else, did it really   
have to be in front of her? Every place they went Scully had   
become accustomed to the women who stared at him like they'd   
suck him off at a moment's notice. So why not hook up when she   
wasn't around? Out of sight, out of mind.

The other part of her anger was self-directed, at losing   
control and enjoying being with someone else. After all the   
years of waiting for him, loving him, hoping...why would she   
feel like this now?

The knock on the door nearly made her jump out of her skin.   
She composed herself and walked to the door, opening it to   
find Monica casually dressed in yoga pants and a navy jacket.   
Her long, dark hair was tousled, like she'd dragged herself   
out of the house without a glance at the mirror. Monica came   
in and Scully shut the door.

"So...what brings you by at this late hour?" Scully asked,   
walking over to her couch and sitting down. She looked to   
Monica. "Have a seat."

"Thanks," Monica said, joining her. Monica sighed and leaned   
back into the cushions. "Well, I went to visit Mulder this   
afternoon and he was aloof to say the least," she said. "It   
troubled me."

"Was he at the office?" Scully asked, leaning forward and   
weaving her fingers together.

"Yes. But he wasn't really doing anything."

"That's not uncommon."

They shared a smile, setting her more at ease.

"Listen, Dana...I think last night was a huge mistake." Monica   
paused, running a hand through her hair. "I mean, I know   
people do stupid things, but I?m not usually one of those   
people. And...I know how you guys are, and it was never my   
intention to get into the middle of that." Her choice of   
phrase made Scully blush slightly. Scully took a deep breath   
and nodded, pressing her hands against her knees.

"Monica...we're all adults. Don't hang yourself out to dry on   
this one. Everyone played their part."

"I know. I just don't want to screw anything up," Monica said.   
"It's just not what I do."

Scully's eyes aimlessly followed the sharp edges of her   
entertainment center. She pulled her hair behind her ears.

"Mulder and I have an odd relationship," she finally said,   
leaning back on the couch.

"It doesn't seem that odd to me," Monica said, cracking her   
knuckles. "I mean...a lot of people work together, develop   
feelings for each other and act on them. Hey, it's happened to   
me before."

Scully looked at Monica as she shrugged with a smile. She was   
so unassuming, so nonchalant about all of it. It puzzled her.

"I?m not sure what Mulder and I are anymore," Scully murmured,   
their eyes meeting briefly. "I used to be sure."

"It'll come to you," Monica said, putting her hand on Scully's   
leg. "You just have to be open to accepting it."

Scully's eyes gravitated to the warm hand on her leg which was   
doing a fantastic job of sending little waves of something too   
closely resembling arousal through her body. Scully's lips   
parted slightly, like if she waited long enough, the right   
answer would drop from them.

"It just made me so angry," Scully whispered, digging her   
fingernails into her palms. "When he did that to you."

Monica took a sharp breath. Scully glanced at her and saw a   
trace of sadness cross her face. "I know. I'm so sorry I   
didn't stop it."

Scully clenched her jaw tightly as she closed her eyes. She   
wondered why it seemed like everyone had wanted to stop it and   
nobody did. In an instant Monica pulled Scully's head against   
her chest, hugging her. "It's okay, Dana. I don't want you   
hurting about it. Ugh. I'm sorry."

"I don't know what I want anymore. I don't know what he wants   
anymore." Scully choked back a tiny sob, failing miserably.   
Monica's shirt became damp with shed tears. Scully fought to   
regain her composure, equally irritated at herself and   
devastated.

Monica wordlessly tightened her hug. Scully took a shaky   
breath, catching a soft scent of a complex, earthy perfume.   
The same as the night before.

Scully lifted her head and looked into Monica's eyes. Monica   
smiled with a little shrug and Scully leaned in and pressed   
their mouths together, motionless through fleeting moments.   
Scully felt her body melt a little as she moved her lips   
needily against Monica's mouth, finding it unresponsive.

Monica pulled away gently. "Dana...this isn't a good idea for   
you right now."

Scully swallowed hard, furiously blushing. Sick confusion   
fluttered in her gut. Monica cupped Scully's face with a hand   
and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Let me reword that," Monica said. "I?m amazed...in   
wonderment...and you, and that, feel incredible. Last night   
felt...I can't really describe it in words right now. But if   
we decide to go along this path, I want to make sure it's for   
the right reasons. And that there won't be any regrets for   
either of us."

Scully nodded, her face pressing into Monica's palm. "I'm   
sorry."

Monica looked into her eyes, searching. "If you're anything,   
don't be sorry."

Scully closed her eyes, absorbing the coolness of Monica's   
hand against her flushed cheek.

The apartment door swiftly opened and Mulder stood, key in   
hand, facing them on the couch.

Scully rose quickly, horrifically surprised at the disheveled   
sight before her. Monica sat shocked on the couch, her   
expression alarmed.

"Oh, this is just great, Scully," Mulder said, closing the   
door behind him. "Is that what you want?"

"What are you doing here?" Scully's voice was hollow and   
damaged. Of all the times for him to walk in. He was always   
walking in like he owned the place. Humiliation sent color   
through her cheeks once again. Mulder was unfazed, anger   
hardening his expression.

"I'd ask you the same question," he said. "But it's apparent   
to me that I?m not invited this time around."

"You need to get out," Scully said flatly, barely controlling   
the fury swelling up inside of her. "And get of here now,   
Mulder."

"So you wake up today and start railing against me about how   
horrible I am, that I did this to you. You sent me on an all-  
day fucking guilt trip, and now this?" Mulder's whole body   
quivered, his voice shaking.

Scully was out of words. She glanced at Monica, who was   
watching Mulder, seemingly ready to make a move in case things   
got out of control.

"Do you really want it to end like this, Dana?" Mulder asked,   
rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to rid himself   
of an intense pain that ached for release. He glanced at her   
through a glimmer of tears and she looked away. Mulder crying   
was a rarity and the only thing she felt she couldn't handle,   
especially not right now.

"I don?t know what I want," she whispered, a tear dripping to   
her cheek.

Mulder closed his eyes with a ragged breath. Then he walked   
over to her, brushing past Monica, and pushed the key into her   
palm. Scully bit back a whimper and stared into his dark eyes.

"I don't want it," he whispered harshly. "Not anymore."

Scully closed her fist around the key as the tears spilled   
over. She saw the split second of compassionate pain cross his   
face before she looked away. He turned his back on her and   
walked out the door, leaving it wide open.


	3. Chapter 3

Mulder had gone to Scully's apartment to try and convince  
her that the night before had been one of the biggest  
mistakes of his life. He had spent the afternoon working  
through the embarrassment, anger and defensiveness that  
came along with the entire scenario.

He knew what she'd said was right; he and Scully had waited  
a terribly long time to act on anything. Their relationship  
consisted of carefully calculated faux platonic  
interactions until very recently. Their turn as lovers was  
new, exciting and damn hot.

And then last night happened. His vehement denial of  
responsibility was to hide his true feelings from her, his  
embarrassment at the trite and reckless stunt he pulled by  
having sex with someone, right in front of her, no less.

Monica was by all standards sexy, smart and funny. A girl  
that he'd have banged a hundred times over ten years  
earlier. With Scully in the picture, his desire had  
changed, had focused like a pinpoint on the one person he  
knew he could spend the rest of his life with. Not some  
harebrained one-night stand after a few too many beers.

He was ashamed of what he did. But when he'd walked in on  
Monica and Scully on her couch tonight, he was ashamed at  
what a fool he'd become. It should have been obvious to him  
what path Scully was going to take after he saw how much  
she was enjoying Monica in his own bed. He should have  
known to prepare, to numb himself against the hurtful  
rejection that had stunned him as he stood in her doorway.

It was too late. He'd angrily returned her key, a move he  
knew propelled them ten thousand paces backward on their  
relationship's evolutionary scale. But he was so angry at  
how she'd played the victim and then shoved it right back  
in his face.

Mulder entered his apartment and couldn't remember how he'd  
gotten there. It felt emptier than ever. He glanced into  
the bedroom and chose his couch instead. Dependable and  
sturdy. His goddamn couch was the only constant in his  
life. How very fucking sad, he thought as he lay down. He  
tried not to remember his first time making love to her on  
those very cushions, how she clutched at him and pulled at  
him and moaned his name, branding his soul. It would always  
carry her impression.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That night the dream began, sickly vivid, the biting scent  
of pine assaulting her senses. His screams for help pierced  
the eternal quiet of the forest. He was calling her name,  
again and again. She was searching, lost in an Oregon  
wilderness. What she found was not who she knew. His face  
pale and mottled and mutilated. She held it in her hands.  
She was lost.

Scully woke up in her own bed. Her face was wet with tears  
or sweat, she wasn't sure which. She willed herself to calm  
down, a hiccup of a sob escaping. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Mulder's not gone. Mulder's not dead. Mulder's alive.  
Alive, alive.

She wished that the most horrible details of the dream had  
been fantasy. No one she knew had held the dead body of  
their best friend in their arms, then been able to hold him  
again, warm again, a struggling ray of sunshine amidst lost  
hopes and dreams.

After Mulder returned, she had realized she was suffering  
from mild post-traumatic stress disorder. Most of the time,  
touching him and talking to him warded off those demons. It  
was like it never happened as she placed the entire  
unbelievable idea of Mulder's rebirth in the dark corner of  
her mind.

She knew he still felt pain sometimes, but kept it inside.  
It wandered behind his hazel eyes, a lion pacing in its  
cage. She had kept hers inside too, with every other  
cataclysmic event that punctuated their lives.

She wasn't sure if there was any more room in that dark  
chamber. Something had to give.

As Scully drifted in and out of hazy slumber, she wondered  
if she should go to the guest bedroom and crawl into the  
bed just for the comforting feeling of a warm body next to  
hers. It wouldn't be Mulder; she didn't want him right now.  
He had hurt her too badly. It would be Monica, who she'd  
told to stay the night. But she was afraid of where her own  
need for intimacy might take them.

She decided against it. It wasn't the time for foolish  
acts. She had enough tough decisions to make in the  
morning.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The morning began normally. Almost. Monica had left early  
to get ready for work at her apartment, but left Scully a  
note on her kitchen table.

"Hope you slept well. Give me a call later. M."

M. Now there were two, this one with feminine handwriting.

Scully felt the drag of two days' worth of emotional  
wreckage as she got ready for work, perfecting her hair and  
makeup as always, pulling on her firmly pressed suit,  
slipping into the heels that had become essential tools in  
making up the vertical and psychological distance between  
herself and her partner.

She was intimidated by the day as it spread its early  
morning wings.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

SKINNER'S OFFICE  
9:05 A.M.

Scully exited the Assistant Director's office, closing his  
door with a gentle pull. She flashed a quick, nondescript  
smile to his secretary and escaped into the garish  
fluorescent lights of the hallway.

Done. It was done. She left the building and sat on a bench  
outside, letting the sounds of the city salvage what was  
left of her heart. Noisy and overbearing, life kept moving.

She flipped open her phone and called Monica.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

SKINNER'S OFFICE  
10:15 A.M.

"Agent Scully has requested and been granted a two-week  
leave of absence. She has also requested an  
interdepartmental transfer, effective immediately."

Mulder glared at the phone on Skinner's desk, his jaw  
tightly set. He felt the anger that had been slowly  
simmering for days well up inside of him. He closed his  
eyes and took a deep breath, opening them again to  
Skinner's intolerant stare.

"What?" Mulder asked pointedly.

"What?" Skinner asked. "You're asking me what? Agent  
Mulder, I'm asking you what. What the hell's going on  
here?"

"It's not a Bureau matter," Mulder said.

"The hell it isn't," Skinner spat. "It's my deal now. One  
of my best agents has requested leave and an immediate  
transfer. Now, I'm assuming it's because of you. She was  
all torn up in here Agent Mulder, and there's only one  
person who can do that to her."

"I really don't feel comfortable discussing my personal  
life or that of Agent Scully in a professional environment,  
as it's not appropriate. I don't know why she requested  
leave and transfer," he said, his heartbeat quickening.

"The fuck you don't," Skinner said, slamming his palm  
against his desk. The sound echoed through his office. "I'm  
putting you on immediate leave without pay until we can  
investigate the matter further to make sure protocol hasn't  
been breached, including," he added, "the explicit rules  
barring fraternization between Bureau employees."

Mulder's infuriated glare was interrupted by a flinch of  
fear, from which he quickly recovered. "Fine."

"I will be taking independent statements from you and Agent  
Scully tomorrow. I need you here to answer my questions at  
10 a.m. Do not be late," he threatened.

Mulder closed his eyes, felt them stick dryly to his  
eyelids. He pulled them open. "Fine."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Mulder left Skinner's office he went straight to his  
basement retreat to call Scully. He needed to call her,  
talk some sense into her, try to convince her that this  
time, like all the other times she'd tried to leave him,  
wasn't a good idea.

The few minutes it took him to ride the elevator seemed  
painfully long. In the privacy of his office he went  
straight for his phone and dialed her cell number.

His stomach sunk, deep and sick, at the disconnection  
notice that made its announcement in his ear. Things were  
worse than he'd imagined. He stood, receiver in hand, as  
the message repeated. His mind traveled wildly along paths  
of desperation; what to do next, what not to do. Scully  
apparently wanted to be left alone. Whether he could obey  
her wishes was another story.

In the parking garage he sat in his car, keys in the  
ignition, engine idling, going nowhere. This had never  
happened. Of all the things they'd been through, been  
exposed to, been wounded by, they'd never severed the line  
of communication between them. It was umbilical, connecting  
him to her vitality to keep him going every day. He knew  
she felt the same way. Had felt the same way.

He didn't understand why he'd had sex with Monica. The  
biological drive to do it, of course, explained a lot, but  
he'd never wanted her that way. That night he'd been so  
captivated by watching the two of them together, almost a  
nurturing act, that he'd felt a twinge of jealousy that he  
couldn't brush off. Scully was his nurturer, always had  
been, and the way she was kissing Monica was the way she  
kissed him, too.

He'd wanted to be a part of it, but for some reason, he  
chose the wrong side of the equation. It didn't sum up, it  
never would, and even though Monica had felt hot and  
gorgeous and incredible in her own ways, it had left him  
empty. There was no value to it.

He had to make Scully understand it, no matter how much it  
hurt her to listen. He knew what she was doing?she was  
closing back up, like a flower to the setting sun. It was  
how she dealt with anything disturbing she faced. Deep  
inside of her there was a dark place where her pain was  
secretly stored away from the world.

Maybe if she understood that it meant nothing she would  
realize what they might lose if they didn't try to save it.

He drove to Georgetown.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

SCULLY'S APARTMENT  
10:30 P.M.

Scully sat awake with an unopened book in her lap. The  
house had been eerily quiet all evening; she wasn't  
accustomed to spending the time alone anymore. She knew  
Mulder was probably brooding somewhere, making a plan to  
assault her with all of the reasons she was wrong, that she  
was making a mistake, being irrational, if only she would  
listen, she might understand this time.

She was so tired of Mulder trying to explain everything  
away in an attempt to keep her on his short leash. She was  
surprised he hadn't come to the apartment as soon as he  
found out she'd disconnected her cell phone. She guessed he  
knew she wouldn't answer the door. That would only  
aggravate him more, and the last thing they needed was a  
scene.

Skinner had called her a few hours ago at her new cell  
number to tell her she needed to appear at a hearing in the  
morning regarding her request for transfer. She didn't want  
the morning to come. She was dreading questions she may not  
want to answer. She might not even have the answers he  
demanded.

Scully had holed up in her apartment tonight with the  
explicit purpose of avoiding him as long as possible. The  
only place she needed to be was that hearing tomorrow  
morning, as ready as she possibly could be.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

SCULLY'S APARTMENT COMPLEX  
7:30 A.M.

Scully quickly walked to her car. The early morning had  
left a humid mist in the air that clung to her skin.

She caught a glimpse of movement to her right and  
instinctually knew who it was. Mulder was waiting for her  
to emerge. He'd seen her leave and now he was going to  
confront her in front of the world. She always knew he was  
a man of passion, but he was also despicably tenacious at  
times. Her stomach turned as she walked faster. He was  
catching up to her quickly, her pace no match for his long  
strides.

"Hey," he called, breaking into a jog. Her car was within  
view. If she ran, she might make it. He also might jam a  
body part into the door, jump on the hood of her car, or  
cause some other sort of erratic scene she desperately  
wanted to avoid.

Scully stopped, waiting for him with her back turned. He  
came up beside her, panting a bit.

"Why did you disconnect your phone?" Mulder got right to  
the point.

"Because things changed last night," she said. She watched  
him flinch, the sting of her bluntness most likely hitting  
him a little harder than he'd expected.

"Scully, I know you're mad. Obviously...extremely mad. I  
know I completely screwed up. Not just by hurting you, but  
by being afraid to acknowledge the damage that I did to  
us," he said. She closed her eyes, tapping her toes  
anxiously against the cement sidewalk.

"I'm not buying it, Mulder," she said with a shrug.

"What exactly do you think I'm selling here?" Anger tinged  
his words.

"I know you're hurt. Because I know you, Mulder, and I know  
how you make a mistake and then berate yourself for it a  
thousand times over. But there are some things..." She  
paused, studying a discarded coffee cup in the wilted  
grass. Focusing kept her tears inside. "There are some  
things that happen that are beyond the realm of penance and  
forgiveness."

Mulder's mouth screwed up into a tense frown, his  
contemplative stare taking her in. She could feel him  
trying to peel off the layers she'd built overnight to  
protect herself from his words. "So what about you and  
Monica, then? Apparently, I'm to forgive and forget how you  
were all over her. How she had her fingers in you, Scully,  
remember that? And you kissing her like you were supposed  
to be kissing me."

"Mulder, don't get obscene," she whispered, her mind  
wrapping around his words. "It's not the same."

"How is it not the same?"

"I can't explain myself to you any better than you've  
explained yourself to me." Irritation flooded her voice.  
"The whole thing was one big sorry mistake, but I can't get  
it out of my head. If you ever were with me again,  
Mulder..." She swallowed, her throat straining as she  
denied her tears once again. "I would always think of you  
with her. I can't do that to myself. I can't live like  
that."

He breathed out heavily. She watched the anger flash  
through his eyes and knew he was trying to control himself.  
And then that anger burst. "You think you're so high on  
your pedestal. You make the judgments; you bring down the  
verdict and carry out the punishment, Scully. I don't need  
you pushing your guilt and confusion down on me. You know  
what happened. You know I'm sorry."

"You've never once said you were sorry," she snapped. "You  
never do. And that's because you never are."

He shook his head. "Jesus Christ..."

"I've got a hearing to get to," she said. "And if you're  
ever going to pray, then yes. This is the time to start."

Mulder stood still, the wind pushing at his back as he  
watched her leave.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

HOOVER BUILDING  
9:30 A.M.

"Agent Scully, thank you for your understanding in joining  
us today. Assistant Director Johnson is here to witness the  
hearing to assure that our questioning proceeds in  
accordance with appropriate rules of conduct, as we respect  
your privacy in the matter as much as possible."

Scully's mouth was dry as she gave the other party a slight  
nod, averting her eyes to her icy cold fingers, fiddling  
with a loose button in her lap. It took a solemn breath to  
establish firm eye contact with Skinner. She wanted to  
remain strong. She had to. She wasn't sure where she would  
pull her strength from, but it had to happen.

"Normally in matters related to LOAs and transfers, if  
there is no reason for suspicion of a breach of protocol,  
we don't conduct a hearing," Skinner continued. She  
examined his eyes, a hardness where she normally found a  
soft spot. She wondered why he'd decided to pursue the  
matter; he'd always been an ally to the two of them in the  
past.

"What exactly is the breach of protocol that you're  
investigating?" she asked.

There it was. Skinner's eyes flashed empathy for a brief  
moment. It wasn't him instigating this intrusion. He was  
just a pawn to someone's crusade to pin them on the one  
thing she never expected to encounter.

"We just need to be briefed on the reasons behind your  
request for transfer," Johnson replied, jumping in ahead of  
Skinner.

Scully focused on Johnson, her eyes calm. "I have personal  
reasons for requesting a transfer of duties."

"Which are?" Johnson asked.

"Assistant Director, I've been working with Agent Mulder on  
the X-Files for eight years. Though I'm grateful for the  
professional experience I've gained through my work, I felt  
it was time to move into an area more suited for my medical  
background and life's ambitions."

It came out exactly as she'd practiced it in front of her  
mirror dozens of times the night before. The first several  
times she'd broken down into tears, unable to continue.  
With more work, she was able to push aside the ache in her  
chest. When the words flowed out, this time they were  
assured and conclusive.

"So your request for transfer had nothing to do with a  
personal conflict between you and Agent Mulder?" Johnson  
had completely taken over and wasn't letting her go easily.  
Skinner shifted in his seat. She ignored it, too busy  
trying to steady a lower lip that threatened to tremble and  
with it, take down the tower.

"No," she said, immediately knowing the pause had been too  
long. She'd practiced. She was angered that her body was  
betraying all the work she'd done to build herself up for  
this moment.

"Then why did you request an immediate LOA?" Johnson  
expectantly looked at her.

Her pulse raced as she returned the stare. "I haven't had a  
lot of time off lately."

"Honestly, Agent Scully, this is all a bit too sudden to  
use the excuse of needing a little R&R," Johnson said. He  
flexed his fingers together. "I'm going to put some  
formalities aside here and let you know that we take these  
matters very seriously. The Bureau places great priority on  
the safety of our agents and our primary concern is for  
your welfare."

Her stomach twisted into a knot. She gulped down her tears  
with all of her effort. "What exactly are you implying?"

Skinner took his turn. "If Agent Mulder conducted himself  
inappropriately toward you, it needs to be addressed.  
Confidentially, professionally?"

"What are you saying?" Scully interrupted, the shock  
rolling over her in a wave of nausea. Her breath left her  
body like the room sucked it away. She blinked repeatedly,  
a tear escaping the corner of her eye. "Are you implying  
that Agent Mulder?abused me in some way?"

"There are no implications," Skinner said as she quickly  
brushed the tear off her cheek. "We just need to know why  
you needed to leave his department immediately. Often, in  
these cases, it's in response to a trauma and our primary  
concern is for your safety and well-being."

She regained what feeble composure she had left. "Agent  
Mulder and I are?friends. He wouldn't ever, never. It's an  
appalling accusation and it sickens me."

"Agent Scully, we never made any accusations. You need to  
be clear on that," Johnson said. "You were the one who used  
the word 'abuse.'"

"He didn't?he wouldn't?" Her abdomen twitched as repulsion  
reared its ugly head. "No. He has never harmed me. Ever. I  
want that on the record. Never," she said. "In fact, if my  
LOA and transfer are going to create a situation with  
people tossing unfounded and incredible accusations around,  
I might as well tender my resignation today." Her voice  
wavered and she bit her tongue.

"There's no need for that," Skinner responded, taking a  
deep breath. "We just need a verbal and written statement  
indicating that there was no inappropriate contact toward  
you instigated by Agent Mulder, or any other Bureau  
employee for that matter."

"Here's your verbal statement," Scully said. "No."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully exited Skinner's office and found Mulder sitting on  
the waiting area couch. He was wearing the same clothes as  
the morning and looked like hell.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, wiping away the few  
tears that had fallen as she'd walked out the door.

"I'm here for my hearing," he answered, drumming his  
fingers against the arm of the couch. Her eyes widened,  
mouth agape.

"Mulder, don't say anyth--"

"Agent Mulder," Skinner said from his doorway. Scully spun  
around and glared at him.

"Why are you interrogating him?" she growled.

"It's protocol," Skinner responded, his eyes concerned.  
"Agent Scully, you're no longer needed today."

"Fuck protocol," she said, her voice rising. "I told you  
everything you needed to know. Don't put him through this.  
He doesn't know anything."

"Agent Scully, you are excused." Skinner's voice echoed in  
the small room. A deadening silence followed.

Mulder got up and walked toward Skinner's office, brushing  
against Scully as he passed. She stood, frozen, as the door  
clicked shut behind her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Agent Mulder, thank you for your understanding in joining  
us today. Assistant Director Johnson is here to witness the  
hearing to assure that our questioning proceeds in  
accordance with appropriate rules of conduct, as we respect  
your privacy in the matter as much as possible."

Mulder stretched his legs out, sitting slightly askew in  
the uncomfortable chair. "Nice line, sir." He shot a glance  
at Johnson, who he'd never seen in his life. He was less  
than thrilled at meeting him given the occasion.

"As you know, we're looking into the possible reasons  
behind Agent Scully's LOA and request for transfer. We  
brought you in because, as her partner, we were hoping you  
could offer some insight into her decision," Johnson said.

"Actually, I'm probably in the dark as much as you two on  
this one," Mulder said.

"Did Agent Scully discuss her desire to request an LOA or  
transfer with you prior to taking action?" Johnson jotted  
something down on the paper in front of him. Mulder  
pictured the colorful verbiage most likely being used to  
describe his appearance and demeanor. Arrogant and  
underdressed came to mind.

"No," Mulder said.

"Not at all?"

Mulder paused, tilting his head. "Hold on. Let me think for  
a second?no. Still no."

"Do you have any idea why your partner of eight years would  
suddenly make these decisions, especially without  
discussing them with you?" Johnson continued his diatribe,  
his face set in stone. Apparently Skinner brought him in as  
the muscle of this operation.

"No," Mulder repeated.

"Don't you think that's a little odd?" Johnson's eyes  
flicked to meet Mulder's casual glare.

"Yes. But I'm not Agent Scully's keeper. I've made many  
decisions about my life without running them by her first.  
I assume it's the same for her," he said, his eyes  
challenging. Take that, pencil jockey.

There was a momentary pause. Mulder attributed it to the  
build-up to the earth-shattering question he expected next  
and had prepared himself for already.

"Agent Mulder, at any point in your partnership with Agent  
Scully, did you ever cause physical or emotional harm to  
her?"

And there it was, as casually presented as an entree at a  
run-down diner in some lonely old town he and Scully had  
visited a thousand times before. Done it all for the  
Bureau, which was currently asking him to bend over and  
grab his ankles.

"Never," he said. He looked at Skinner, who was examining  
every twitch of Mulder's face for any sign of deceit.

"Did you ever forcibly coerce Agent Scully into having  
inappropriate contact with you?" Johnson's expression  
remained unchanged.

"What the?are you kidding me?" Mulder shifted his seat,  
straining to hold himself back from reaching across the  
desk and throttling this motherfucker in front of him. He  
looked at Skinner, his eyes pleading. "You can't be  
serious."

"Agent Mulder, we just need an answer to the question,"  
Skinner said.

"This is a typical line of questioning for these types of  
scenarios," Johnson said, watching Mulder squirm. Probably  
enjoying the hell out of it.

"This makes me sick," Mulder said, his throat constricted  
at the thought of anyone doing that to her, of anyone  
asking her if he'd done that. "Never. For fuck's sake." He  
closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. "I would  
never harm a hair on her head. She's everything to me."

"What do you mean by that?" Johnson immediately asked. He  
scribbled more notes.

Mulder sat frozen for a moment. He couldn't believe  
himself, that he'd let that one fly. Maybe they'd assume he  
was some crazy stalker that she felt she couldn't escape.  
Fuck, maybe he was. Maybe they would figure out what it  
really meant, that he loved her, so deep it was ingrained  
in him. The pain over the past few days scratched as  
deeply.

"I care about her like you'd care about anyone you'd spent  
the better part of eight years with," he said.

Love, Mulder. The word is love. Dig the hole, jump in, send  
in the bulldozer.

"Did this ever make Agent Scully feel uncomfortable or  
intimidated?" Johnson asked.

"I never told her," Mulder said, biting the chafed skin  
inside his cheek. He drew blood and tasted metallic defeat.  
He shifted in his seat and Skinner leaned back.

"I think we're done here," he said. "Thank you, Agent  
Mulder, for coming up."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully was waiting for him in the basement office, sitting  
in his chair, when Mulder walked in after his hearing.

"What did they ask you?" she said, her arms folded across  
her lap. He sat on the chair in front of his desk, her  
chair. It was uncomfortable. He decided to get a new one as  
soon as possible.

"They were fairly intrusive," he answered, his elbows on  
his knees. She stared at him, expecting an elaboration,  
which he didn't offer.

"And?"

"And what, Scully? You need a play-by-play? They probably  
asked us the same stupid questions." He shuffled his feet  
against the grimy tile floor.

"What did you say to them?"

Mulder let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm tired of being  
interrogated."

"Mulder." She got up and walked over to stand in front of  
him, her hands on her hips. He didn't meet her eyes. Her  
demanding tone angered him; he'd just saved their asses and  
expected a little more respect for it. "Mulder. Look at  
me."

"Oh, please," he said, his eyes meeting her intent gaze. "I  
told them what they needed to know."

Her look turned incredulous. "What does that mean?"

"Whatever you think it means."

Her hands dropped from her hips as she groaned, her  
frustration escaping at last. "Mulder, don't you think it's  
important for us to compare what was said? In case this  
comes up again, as it most likely will?"

"It shouldn't," he answered. "I cleared things up for  
them."

Scully silently scrutinized him. He knew she was wondering  
if he was calling her bluff. His eyes were calm as pushed  
up from the chair, standing in front of her.

"You staying? I'm leaving," he said.

"Mulder, don't fuck with me."

He leaned down so his face was inches from hers. "Yeah,  
Scully, I think that's what got us into this in the first  
place," he whispered.

Mulder watched her barely keep her composure, like she'd  
just swallowed a bitter shot of anger and sadness. She  
gulped, hard, and gave him a barely noticeable nod as she  
digested his words.

He broke their icy stare to grab his coat and leave.


	4. Chapter 4

SCULLY'S APARTMENT  
7:31 P.M.

"I can't believe he said that to you," Monica said, her   
mouth full of penne pasta. She intently speared another   
forkful of noodles and looked up at Dana, who was sitting a   
little too closely beside her on the couch. Monica had come   
over on Dana's request because she needed to talk about the   
hearing and what Mulder had said to her in the basement   
afterward.

Monica had picked up some Italian food, not really in the   
mood to cook, but knowing they both probably could use a   
decent meal.

Dana had told her about her request for transfer when she'd   
arrived. It surprised Monica that things had taken such a   
dramatic turn, while she secretly hoped the transfer would   
be to her division. She knew Dana was a runner; she seemed   
the type to plan an escape from her conflicts and problems   
without dealing with them head-on. Monica had felt guilty   
on and off all day for wanting to feel closer to Dana when   
she knew she needed some time to work these things out in   
her head. But she also saw the hurt in Dana's eyes and felt   
a desperate pull to her, to fix her, to make things as   
right as she could.

Dana stirred her pasta, casting a sideways glance to   
Monica. "It shocked me when he said it. But then again,   
nothing he says or does should shock me anymore." She took   
a large bite of the pasta. Monica watched her chew, the   
movement of her lips captivating in a nonsensical way. Dana   
wasn't just eating. She was analyzing its contents for   
quality.

"This is really good," Dana said.

"Oh, I know," Monica replied, sliding her fork through the   
sauce and licking it off. Yeah...that probably looked a   
little funny. Scully noticed it and focused back on her   
bowl. "So Dana...where are you guys going from here?"

"You mean relationship-wise?" Dana took a little more   
liberty filling her fork, contemplatively consuming her   
next bite. "I think he's right. It wasn't a good idea."

"Really?" Monica found that hard to believe. A relationship   
of eight years usually didn't end up dying in a matter of   
days, no matter what the intrusion.

Dana sighed and put her bowl on the coffee table, leaning   
back on the couch. "I don't want to talk about him, Monica.   
He's just so fucking irritating."

"Well, I could have told you that." Monica woefully left   
her remaining pasta on the table as well before settling   
in. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

Dana sighed and raised her eyebrows.

What a deliciously long sigh, Monica thought. Stop it. She   
just had a huge fight with the most important person in her   
life, her romantic and professional partner and potential   
soulmate, and here you are, picturing that sweet sigh in   
less formal circumstances that involve a little more heat   
and a lot less clothing.

"I was thinking about what you said the other night, when I   
kissed you and you stopped me," Dana said.

Oh, that little thing? "That we needed to wait?"

"Yeah," Dana answered, running her hand over her hair. "I   
was wondering how long we should wait."

Monica tried desperately not to melt into a puddle on the   
couch. She couldn't keep her breath from quickening a   
little. "Um, well. How long do you think we should wait?"

Dana's lips parted and Monica resisted the urge to kiss   
them. Hold on, damn it. It's like you haven't been laid in   
ten years.

"I don't think we should wait," Dana said, glancing to her   
with questioning eyes. "I don't want to wait."

Monica's breath caught in her throat. She licked the last   
taste of marinara sauce from her lip. "Dana, I don't know   
what to say."

Dana turned her head and leaned in until their mouths were   
inches apart. "Say yes, Monica."

Monica's heart leapt into her throat. She felt Dana's hot   
breath on her mouth. "I tell you what. I'm going to let you   
do whatever you want."

Dana looked a bit shocked at the suggestion. She pulled   
away and Monica suddenly wondered if she'd gone a little   
too far.

Monica looked into Dana's eyes, observing her curious   
anxiety. A tense heat grew in her abdomen in the long   
seconds before Dana reached over and pulled at the top   
button of her shirt, plucking it free. Monica bit back a   
gasp and she watched Dana's skillful hands pull at each   
tiny button. She closed her eyes and felt an energy   
humming, just a few inches of warm space between them.

Monica steadied her breath as Dana's fingers lightly teased   
the tender skin of her stomach. The last button fell free.

Dana pushed a sleeve down Monica's shoulder with little   
warning, then the other side. The shirt dangled on Monica's   
wrists. Dana grabbed them, holding them to her sides as she   
pressed her lips against Monica's neck. The gentle arousal   
Monica had felt between her legs began to throb slowly with   
the beating of her heart.

She tried to control the urge to take charge of what was   
happening. Dana's lips moved down her shoulder and to the   
top of her breast, full and nestled inside of black lace.   
Monica couldn't take any more teasing. She wiggled her   
wrists free from Dana's grip and pulled her shirt   
completely off.

Monica grabbed the back of Dana's hair gently, pulling her   
mouth away from her chest and kissing her.

The gentle prompting of Dana's tongue, tentative turned   
needy, made Monica desperate for more. More heat, more   
taste, more touch.

"Do you want to take my shirt off?" Dana moaned against her   
mouth.

"Hell yes," Monica said, separating from the kiss. Dana's   
lips curled into a sheepish smile as Monica pulled her   
sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor. They   
looked each other over. Monica noticed the obvious   
difference in height, how her breasts were a little larger   
than Dana's, but Dana's waist was a little smaller. The   
curve of her bare hip meeting the soft black pants made   
Monica wanted to pull them off of her.

Dana sighed, planting a kiss on Monica's collarbone.

"Do you want to go to your room or something?" Monica   
asked, kissing her forehead lightly.

Dana nodded, her eyes widening. Monica stood up, offering   
her a hand.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully's head was spinning as they entered her bedroom   
together. She flicked on the lamp and soft light flooded   
the room with warmth. There was only one other person who   
had shared anything in this room with her. She tried to   
ignore the visuals of she and Mulder pushing each other   
around her bed, naked and sweaty and wanting. It only   
turned her on more, which she didn't think was possible.

She and Monica self-consciously eyed each other. Scully   
took her remaining clothes off, determined to keep moving   
forward. They'd done this once before, taking their clothes   
off. It was much different in the light. Scully knew of   
every imperfection she wished she could hide. There weren't   
many, but they were probably obvious to another woman.

"You're so pretty," Monica said, her eyes wandering over   
Scully's body.

"Let's see you," Scully said, shifting under her gaze.

Monica obeyed, shedding her clothes and meeting Scully's   
eyes with a hopeful expression. Scully's breath caught in   
her throat as she glanced over Monica. Her skin was paler   
than she'd expected; her body curved and delicate,   
something she hadn't noticed before.

Scully pulled down the comforter and they settled atop soft   
white sheets, the pillowy mattress giving in to their   
bodies as they lay next to each other on their sides.

"I don't really know what I'm doing," Scully said, running   
a finger lightly down Monica's bare arm. As if it wasn't   
obvious to Monica already, she thought. She was nervous and   
unsure of herself.

"I don't, either," Monica said, tucking an auburn strand   
behind Scully's ear. "But...I assume it's like being with   
yourself. You know what you like."

Scully had to smile at Monica's serious observation amid   
the strangeness of the whole situation. Monica returned the   
smile and Scully took in the vision before her. Monica had   
long, slender legs that matched her arms. Her strength was   
shielded just beneath a surface of soft skin, harboring   
defined muscles that firmed her body. Her dark hair set in   
contrast to the white of the cotton sheets, her delicate   
and defined facial structure. The dark chocolate eyes that   
met her own and now made her blush with desire.

"What do you like?" Scully whispered, furrowing her brow.

Monica's lips parted slightly, her look thoughtful. "Why   
don't I show you?"

It was a soft question that hit Scully with the impact of a   
gale force squall. "Oh," she murmured, her breath   
quickening. "Okay."

"Are you sure?" Monica asked. Scully nodded and lay down on   
her back. Her head settled into the soft pillow. There was   
no question that she was sure. She was extremely sure, as   
sure as the blood pulsing through her warmly, as sure as   
the full feeling between her thighs. She tried not to think   
of how awkward she might seem.

Monica slid closer to her, giving her a light kiss.   
"Dana...if you want me to stop you can say it. Just tell   
me. I won't be offended. I won't be angry."

"Same for you," Scully said earnestly.

And then it began. Slowly, like the first glimmers of   
morning light spilling across the lawn at her parents'   
house, golden and pink, gentle and welcoming. Monica's soft   
lips started on her own, feather light kisses until Scully   
pushed her own mouth up to greet her. They kissed more,   
tongues mingling cautiously.

Scully slid her hand down the back of Monica's glossy hair   
to her shoulder, pulling her closer. Their bodies pressed   
together as Monica's mouth moved over her collarbone and   
ear. Scully felt fingers travel up her side and play   
delicately over the tightened flesh of her nipple as Monica   
nuzzled into her neck.

"That's nice," Scully breathed. It was. Monica traced her   
fingers around her breast.

"Yeah, it is," Monica murmured against her ear. "I want my   
mouth there...is that okay?"

The asking for permission thing turned Scully on even more.   
She felt the butterflies in her abdomen, caged, desperate   
for release. "You don't have to ask," she whispered.

Monica kissed down her neck and chest to arrive at her   
breast. Scully felt the tickle of soft hair against her   
skin as Monica took a nipple in her mouth and sucked it   
gently. Scully felt herself panting, eyes widened, mouth   
open to let the air she so desperately needed into her   
lungs. She was afraid she might faint.

Monica moved to the other side while she smoothed her hand   
up Scully's body. She was paying attention to every   
available inch of heated skin. Scully tangled her fingers   
in Monica's hair and closed her eyes.

Mulder and Monica. Monica and Mulder. Soft and hard. Sweet   
and salty. For a moment Scully pictured Mulder with his   
mouth covering her nipple, his eyes like lightning,   
ravaging the expanse of her body. She felt Monica move her   
mouth to the hollow of her belly button and moaned. That   
spot under her navel that Mulder cherished, lavished   
attention upon, because the gesture itself nearly made her   
come. It was like Monica implicitly knew the same, kissing   
it open mouthed, flicking her tongue against it. Scully   
writhed and pulled Monica's hair a little harder.

Both lovers felt so good. Why did they both have to feel so   
good in such different ways?

Scully opened her eyes to watch in wonderment as Monica   
kissed the flat of her abdomen. Two dark eyes glanced up at   
her, on fire. A familiar look. "Are you okay?"

"I'm very okay," Scully said with a shaky breath. Monica   
was getting incredibly, undeniably close to the gentle   
throbbing between her legs. The thought made her ache.

Monica ran her hands up both of Scully's hips and sides,   
not looking away just yet. "I want to taste you," she   
whispered.

"Oh, God." Scully's fist tightened in Monica's hair.

"Ow," Monica said.

"Sorry," Scully said quickly, letting her hand fall slack.   
Monica nudged her head against her hand.

"Put it back. Just not so hard," Monica chuckled.

Scully smiled relief. "Okay." She replaced her hand gently,   
threading strands through her fingers. Relief lasted a   
fleeting moment as Monica slid down the bed. Scully let her   
legs fall open and bit her tongue at the hot breath on her   
thigh. When she felt Monica's mouth cover her she moaned   
and clamped her mouth shut to keep it all inside.

A soft swipe of Monica's tongue, seeking entrance,   
tentative at first. Scully's toes curled into the sheets at   
the slick sensation of how wet she'd become. Monica pushed   
in further, her tongue sliding through flesh. Scully pulled   
her head closer and whimpered, anxious for Monica to reach   
the one spot yearning to be licked.

"You taste like me," Monica said, a twitch of a smile on   
her lips.

Scully's eyes rolled back a bit as Monica went right for   
her clit. Precise and perfect, her tongue wandered around   
it in rough circles. Monica slid her hands under Scully's   
bottom to pull her closer as she sucked on it, hardened and   
swollen. Scully's hips arched and she groaned, unable to   
stop herself this time.

"That's it," Monica whispered. "You like that."

Scully had to breathe several times to get her "Yes" out. A   
flood of warmth over her body ignited the telltale spark   
inside of her. She was close to coming, and coming hard.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Monica was really, unexpectedly, enjoying herself. Not that   
she thought she wouldn't. But she didn't expect to enjoy   
herself quite this much. Touching Dana, and kissing and   
licking her was an amazing kind of pleasure that she'd   
never quite gotten out of her male lovers. She knew it had   
something to do with the deep admiration she had for Dana,   
and that she was damn fine. But there was also something   
comforting about not having to worry about some guy shoving   
his cock into your throat or banging the fuck out of you.

Nah, this was a little bit different.

And now she was between Dana's legs, working her over the   
exact way she liked to be worked over. And it was pretty   
good, apparent from the tiny redhead writhing and   
whimpering and moaning above her on the bed. Monica   
wondered if it was possible to get wetter with every sound   
that escaped Dana's lips.

Monica felt Dana's feet shuffle off of the mattress and   
onto her back, her heels pressing down as she arched her   
back with a groan. It was the perfect time to slip two   
fingers into her and hear her cry out. A roll of her tongue   
on Dana's clit and a curl of her fingers is all it took to   
make her come, rocking her hips against Monica's mouth.   
Monica held fast, ignoring the slight pain of Dana pulling   
fistfuls of hair again. Monica licked more slowly, enjoying   
the tremors each sweep of her tongue caused throughout her   
partner's body.

"Oh my," came the soft voice from the head of the bed. The   
hands fell out of Monica's hair, the feet off of her back.   
She crawled up beside Dana, who had her eyes closed.

"Was that okay?" Monica asked, knowing it was okay.   
Figuring it was more than okay. She watched Dana's chest   
move up and down with her slowing breaths.

"Was it..." Dana smiled, opening her eyes. She pulled   
Monica's head in for a kiss. It was long and sweet and   
musky.

"Nice," Monica said at last. Her body had reached a fever   
pitch, all this making love to Dana, and she was needy but   
not wanting to appear so. This woman was so beautiful in   
her afterglow. It was a sight for sore eyes. She cuddled in   
closer to Dana, their bodies pressed together. She closed   
her eyes, savoring the taste left in her mouth.

She felt Dana shift, a hand pushing her back onto the bed.   
Monica didn't open her eyes, not yet. She felt Dana's   
breath on her lips, along her jaw and neck. Soft kisses   
followed. A slow breath escaped Monica as she felt Dana's   
fingers tracing light paths up and down the expanse of her   
body, from hip to shoulder. Meandering, delicate fingers.

"I want to thank you," Dana said into her ear. She nibbled   
on it. Monica smiled and opened her eyes.

"You're welcome."

Dana's mouth moved down her shoulder, tiny kisses to her   
chest. "No, I really want to thank you," she whispered.

It was Monica's turn to be floored. She laughed as Dana   
pulled a nipple into her mouth, grating her teeth gently   
against it. She couldn't help it. Laughing was close to   
pleasure for her. The two went hand in hand.

"You think I'm funny?" Dana said, raising her head to look   
at her.

"Absolutely." Monica grinned, expecting a reprimand. Dana   
let out a soft, smooth chuckle as she took in the second   
nipple, biting a little harder. Monica gasped and tapped   
Dana's head. "Not...nice."

"I might be funny, but I don't have to be nice," Dana   
answered with a decisive suckle on Monica's peaked flesh.   
Monica pressed her thighs together, feeling a little   
shockwave from her wet center all the way to her forehead.

"Prove it." Monica's gaze met blue eyes that turned steely   
with desire.

Keep...breathing.

She closed her eyes to feel every movement of Dana's mouth   
and hands over her body. Dana teased her nipples with both   
hands as she kissed and nipped Monica's sides and belly.   
Everywhere, there was a spark, a movement, a flick of the   
tongue. She was immersed in it and immensely enjoying the   
ride.

Dana ran her fingernails down Monica's legs until they   
tickled her feet. Ran them back up again to her inner   
thighs. Monica shuddered with a sigh.

"We'll see if you like it how I like it," Dana said. Holy   
cow. Dana had finally come out of her shell. Monica had   
known the real redhead was in there somewhere.

"Go for it," Monica breathed. Please, please go for it   
already.

Dana was definitely more direct; she pushed her tongue into   
Monica first thing, surprising the hell out of her. Tracing   
around artfully, Dana pushed Monica's thighs up so they   
settled on her shoulders as she continued slipping her   
tongue in and out. Slowly, carefully, purposefully. Dana's   
thumb pressed down on her clit, sending her into an   
incredible writhe. She grabbed a fistful of Dana's hair--  
payback's a bitch. Monica moaned in delight as that thumb   
slid wetly over her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Then Dana switched it up, slipping her tongue up and her   
fingers down. Dana used her teeth dangerously and it drove   
Monica a little nuts in anticipation. Dana was nibbling,   
sucking, fingering her harder, and through the clouded haze   
of near-climax Monica felt a twinge of fear that Dana might   
lose control and injure her in some obscene way.

Monica rolled her hips against Dana's mouth and felt her   
body become rigid, her orgasm hitting her hard. She   
whimpered and quietly struggled against Dana's merciless   
teasing, even as her orgasm subsided. She had to pull Dana   
away as hard as she could to get her to stop.

"Stop, stop. Whoa. Please. I can't take any more," Monica   
pleaded.

"Mmmmmm," was the reply from between her thighs.

Dana emerged and dragged herself up Monica's body, their   
breasts pressed together. Dana's weight was just right on   
top of her body. They kissed, slow and lingering. They did   
taste the same.

Dana rolled off a bit, pressing her head into the crook of   
Monica's arm. "Is this weird to you?"

"Weird? Well...in some ways, yes. But not in any bad ways."   
Monica was still feeling the minute spasms deep inside of   
her, a gentle reminder of the good ways. "Is it weird to   
you?"

Dana closed her eyes. "Not as weird as I thought it would   
be."

The two were silent, save for soft breaths that fought to   
catch up with their bodies.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Scully woke in the morning, she hazily recollected genie   
hunting in Missouri. Something straight out of folklore,   
complete with the invisible man that had left her   
dumbfounded and inexplicitly embarrassed when it   
disappeared. After the trailer had exploded she'd been   
pretty much done with that day. Taking a "genie" into   
custody had brought it to a whole new level of greatness.

Mulder had taken her back to the motel and stayed a little   
too long, his playful shyness still new to her as he'd laid   
down with her and pulled off her pants, kissing her slowly   
as his fingers traced on her inner thighs.

"I've got three wishes," he'd murmured against her ear.   
She'd smiled at the excited tingle it sent down to her   
toes.

"I'm no genie," she'd chuckled, then gasped as his fingers   
slipped under her panties.

"Hmmm, I know that. But you've got special powers," he   
teased her, feather-light fingertips making her shiver.

"Oh really. What powers?" Mulder had slid two fingers into   
her and she'd moaned, bucking her hips. He'd pressed his   
lips against her neck and moaned with her.

His hot breath tickled her skin. "You make me crazy."

Back in her bed Scully felt fingers sliding inside of her   
and whispered his name, pushing up against the body lining   
her back. Her hips rolled with the steady circling of a   
thumb over her most sensitive spot. Her daydreaming had   
left her at the edge of orgasm, thinking of his hot mouth   
drinking her in, seeking more.

Her body stiffened as she came. She gasped for air, opening   
her eyes at last and finding herself in her own room. She   
realized the fingers inside her didn't belong to Mulder at   
all.

"Good morning," Monica murmured against the damp skin of   
Scully's shoulder. Scully settled into her embrace as   
Monica slid an arm around her waist.

"Good morning," she said, her head still woozy. "Hmmm. Nice   
way to wake up."

"Orgasms and pancakes," Monica said, kissing her ear. "Are   
you game for part two?"

Scully closed her eyes and smiled. "Sure."

Monica rolled off the bed. Scully let her eyes linger over   
Monica's nude body, in the daylight a different animal.   
More real, still beautiful.

"You stay in bed and I'll get them ready," she said,   
slipping on her underwear and dress shirt from the night   
before.

"If you insist," Scully answered. It felt too comfortable.   
She'd never imagined it could feel so comfortable, like   
they'd done this a hundred times before and could just go   
about their day with no worries.

"And Dana?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm not Mulder." An impish smile crossed over Monica's   
face.

Blood rushed to Scully's cheeks. "Oh, God. I'm sorry."

"Nah, I'm just teasing you," Monica replied with a soft   
laugh as she left the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A month ago, Mulder had placed his typical last-minute   
Friday afternoon call to Scully, telling her to pack a   
weekend bag and be ready in thirty minutes outside her   
door. He told her to bring anything except for work.

She'd given up protesting his spontaneous plans a long time   
ago when she realized she couldn't say no to him anymore.   
When he'd arrived, she'd asked him what the next big thing   
was to disrupt her weekend plans.

"You never have any plans," he'd replied. He knew her too   
well.

They'd hopped a small plane at the airport; he'd purchased   
her a ticket. He always did that. She'd seen the   
destination on the departure board and her excitement had   
grown, though she tried to hide it. When they arrived and   
rented a car, Mulder had driven and watched her eyes   
dancing as they sped over roads draped over in sinewy green   
trees, the thick salty smell of the ocean greeting them at   
last.

At his mother's house, he'd hopped out of the car and   
opened the door for her. He'd never felt it necessary to   
sell the house or to dispose of its relics. He held it too   
closely, second only to the woman beside him. He tried to   
visit as often as he could to tend to its upkeep, pay the   
gardener, and take full advantage of the spacious peace it   
offered.

Mulder had given her the formal tour of the house, watching   
her quietly delight in its charm. It made him want to offer   
it all to her, to take her away from everything scary or   
unsure in their lives. He wanted so desperately to live a   
life with her there. He often dreamed of a spunky, red-  
haired child giggling where the surf meets the shore,   
squishing cool wet sand between tiny, perfect toes.

Upstairs in the house, she'd pulled him down on his   
childhood twin bed, kissing him atop the squeaky springs.   
He'd made love to Scully on the thick patchwork quilt.   
She'd giggled uncontrollably at the ancient bed's shrill   
protests to the thrusts of his hips.

Mulder had buried his face in her soft neck, feeling her   
tremor with laughter and pleasure at the same time. She'd   
pulled him so close he could barely move.

They'd slept naked in his parents' bed that night, the   
first night they'd ever stayed the entire night together.   
Scully curled up into him like a needy kitten, purring her   
wants and needs into his ear. He gave everything to her   
again and they'd passed out exhausted, fingers twined.

They were inseparable that weekend. They showered together,   
ate together, took walks down the shore together. They   
built a sand castle and watched as the waves took it down   
piece by piece.

Their last night he stretched out on the living room couch,   
his head in her lap. She stroked the short lengths of hair   
framing his face as they both watched out the picture   
window at the hazy twilight.

"Mulder...it means a lot to me that you brought me here," she   
said, stroking the side of his face.

"I wouldn't bring anyone else," he murmured.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was three days since the disconnect. Mulder drove to the   
Vineyard even though he usually flew. The drive, an arduous   
task, gave his mind a distraction from all of his rampant   
emotions.

"Hello?"

Mulder's breath caught in his throat as he gripped the   
phone. He was sitting on the front porch swing of his   
parents' house and had been for an hour. He'd called   
Scully's home phone and she'd actually answered. He had to   
gather his wits about him.

"Hello?" Scully repeated.

"Hi," he said. His teeth dug into the side of his cheek.

She didn't say anything for seconds that lasted for hours.   
"Hi?" she finally echoed.

"I'm at the Vineyard," he said. He wasn't sure what he   
wanted her to say about it.

She breathed into the phone like she'd been holding it   
three seconds too long. "Why are you telling me this?"

He tried to ignore the little twinge of heartache he felt   
after hearing her words. "I was just remembering, Scully?"

"Mulder, don't. Not now."

"What do you mean, not now?"

Another sigh. "That weekend was sacred to me in every way   
imaginable. And I don't want this...to taint that."

He was speechless. She'd grown impatient with him more   
quickly than usual.

"I hope you enjoy it up there," she offered.

"I don't want to be here without you, Scully," he said,   
hunching over in the swing. He studied the gnarled wood of   
the porch. He felt like he'd just scraped a barely healing   
scab over his pride and there it went, beading blood again.

"Mulder, don't."

His hand clenched around the phone. "Mulder, don't what?   
Jesus, Scully...I'm so lost. I know I fucked up but I'm lost.   
I don't know where to go, I don't know what to do with   
myself." His voice wavered.

"Well, you should have thought of that before--"

"If you throw that in my face one more time, I'll never   
speak to you again," he growled. You always hit me while   
I'm down, he thought. It's my turn to defend myself.

Scully was silent. He wasn't sure when she hung up. He held   
the phone against his ear, watching twilight become night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder spent the entire week in the Vineyard, going through   
boxes crammed full of photos and dusty memories. He was   
amazed at the accumulation of a life. He realized his life,   
thus far, had created little of this of personal   
collection. He had clippings covering wild and fantastic   
stories, alien abductions, photos of crime scenes. But when   
it came to life, his real life, outside of bizarre mutants   
and twisted killers, his gathering of mementos was small.   
There wasn't much to show for his existence. He had hoped   
that would change, but it hadn't.

With every passing day it became easier for Mulder to   
ignore the nagging emptiness he felt. Removed from her,   
removed from himself, removed from his work, from anything   
but the mundane existential rituals of daily life. Wake,   
eat sleep. Cry, throw something, clean it up. He found   
simple joys in visiting the tiny local grocer, in walking   
on the beach at sunset, when the sky lit a fire that glowed   
his favorite shade of red.

After his conversation with Scully, he turned off his phone   
until he traveled back home. It felt pointless to have it   
on. Nobody important ever called but her. When he did,   
there was a voicemail from Skinner from two days before,   
telling him that the investigation into Scully's leave had   
been completed with no evidence of misconduct on either of   
the agents' parts. Skinner told him he could come back to   
work, to drop in when he got back. The thought didn't   
delight him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Monica worked late, as usual, and showed up at Dana's   
apartment a little past eight. She wondered how someone so   
young could feel so damn old. A new pair of shoes she'd   
picked up had looked amazing at the store but had killed   
her feet after the twelve-hour day. Working with John   
Doggett, at times, drove her completely mad. He'd endeared   
himself to her during their stint in New York, and she held   
a deep affection for him that developed after they'd worked   
on his son's case together. But he was also a completely   
damaged man, scrutinizing everything that came his way,   
never trusting, never outwardly emotional. And of course   
Monica wanted to help, but she'd figured out a long time   
ago that it wouldn't work with him. He was too far gone   
down a lost little path.

"Hey," Monica called, kicking her shoes off inside the   
door. "Okay, I'm never wearing these shoes again."

"I know the feeling," Dana answered from the kitchen.   
Monica followed the spicy scent of dinner and walked into   
the tiny kitchen. It had amazed her, the little miracles   
that could come out of such a compact space. Dana could   
cook dinner in a closet and it would come out perfect,   
precisely organized on a spotless plate, and it would taste   
like sin.

Monica stood beside Dana as she tossed a very colorful   
vegetable stir-fry on the stove. "What is that, tofu?"

"It's tempeh," Dana said, nudging Monica with her shoulder.

"Same thing," Monica wrinkled her nose. It smelled better   
than it looked.

"Not really," Dana said, turning and standing up on her   
tiptoes to drop a quick kiss on Monica's lips. Dana arched   
her eyebrow. "In fact, it's quite different. Tempeh is made   
from whole...."

"I'll take your word for it." Monica kissed her again,   
pressing her along a little. Dana smiled into the kiss as   
Monica pushed her back against the counter.

"I just thought...I'd cook...it's my last night off work," Dana   
explained between long, warm kisses. Monica tasted teriyaki   
on Dana's tongue.

"Have you been sneaking bites?" Monica asked. She kissed   
behind Dana's ear and felt her shudder. Of all the places   
on Dana's body, that was her second favorite. Well, third   
favorite. Yes, definitely the third favorite.

"A nibble here and there," Dana breathed.

"Oh really," Monica said. She was almost giddy to have   
permission to touch Dana's body however she wanted,   
whenever she wanted. She untucked Dana's shirt and moved   
her fingers over the soft skin of her stomach.

"Mmmm, Monica, I'm cooking." Scully held the spoon up in   
one hand as she sagged against the counter.

"I'm hungry." Monica slid her hands over Dana's breasts.

"Okay...okay." Dana caught her breath. "Me too, you. Let me   
finish."

"All right." Monica smiled and removed her hands. "But I   
know what I'm having for dessert."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully had moved back to the forensics classroom at   
Quantico. She always went back to that place. No need for a   
partner, no travel, no strange or crazy assignments. No   
chance of an alien abduction. Just flat-out mundane   
autopsies, a freezer full of cadavers, lectures to give,   
tests to grade. Enough to distract anyone from being broken   
inside.

Mulder was broken. He hoped, in a twisted way, she was   
broken too.

Sometimes, when he'd venture out on a beautiful day, the   
air would envelop him, crisp and fresh as her clean cotton   
sheets. The sun glinted off the buildings surrounding him,   
hard and cookie-cutter governmental. He'd meander past her   
favorite deli, just far enough to look for her without   
being noticed. She had a habitual table where she'd sit   
under a tattered yellow umbrella, eating a sandwich   
delicately, oblivious to prying hazel eyes.

Scully was alone in her thoughts. He wanted inside of her   
head but was afraid of what he'd find. He'd watched her   
repeat the little habits that had endeared her to him so   
much over the years. She always wiped her fingers after   
every bite.

Her hair fell over her face as she studiously distracted   
herself with the daily paper. His fingers had yearned to   
push it back. But he'd stayed away. She needed distance.   
That was why she'd left him in the first place.

The one day he'd gone out to catch a glimpse of her and she   
wasn't alone, the sky was overcast and threatened rain. At   
the same table, under her umbrella, she sat with her   
sandwich, wiping her fingers after each bite. She smiled at   
Monica across the table. He caught them smiling in some   
forbidden conversation and watched Monica's fingers brush   
Scully's arm lightly. He nearly threw up on his shoes.

It pulled at the recesses of his heart and he walked away,   
aware of his body's threat to fall apart across the street   
from her happiness.

He wanted to know why she'd chosen Monica over him. After   
all, they had the history together. He'd tried to treat her   
well. In fact, he had treated her well, incredibly well   
considering he'd traveled to Antarctica to save her, just   
because he loved her. And he wasn't convinced she was in   
love with Monica; in fact, he was completely convinced that   
she didn't. It was some weird fantasy thing with her, it   
had to be.

Mulder was angry at himself for abandoning his pride and   
clinging so desperately to his hope that Scully would come   
back to him. He wanted to be angry at her, to despise the   
glaring double standard she was living. He thought it was   
ludicrous for her to get pissed at him for having sex with   
Monica and then leave him to have sex with Monica herself.   
It was all shades of hypocritical. This woman, his insanely   
rational partner, couldn't see the flaw in her own logic.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully had gotten back into a fairly normal routine   
teaching at the Academy. It was something she'd grown   
accustomed to drifting in and out of over the years. She   
still enjoyed quite a bit about teaching. A lecture gave   
her the chance to have a captive audience as she rambled on   
about this or that, and unlike her previous position, there   
was nobody who stood up and challenged her, told her she   
was wrong and that they had the evidence to prove it.

She kind of missed that.

She tried to gain excitement from eager minds, the future   
FBI agents, young minds as green as she once was ages ago.   
Most of them were oblivious to the reality of their chosen   
paths, how they'd spend three quarters of their days on   
paperwork, how bureaucracy repressed truth. The valiant   
eagerness of her students was alternately inspiring and   
depressing.

But it was comforting work, not crazy "Scully-I've-got-a-  
ticket-to-Nevada-for-tonight" type work. It was work that   
kept her easily distracted from her emotional reality.

Monica had stayed every night since they'd first made love.   
They'd spent weeks tending to this young and exciting   
relationship. Every moment she wasn't at work she was with   
this incredibly passionate woman. Monica was attentive, at   
times to the point of overkill, but Scully couldn't get   
enough. It was addictive in some weird way. Scully was   
always the one taking care of everyone else's needs,   
emotional and physical. Here was a beautiful, smart, funny   
woman who doted on her. It took her awhile to accept it,   
but the stability and attraction between them was hard to   
resist.

So much time with Monica made it easier to forget Mulder,   
but he still wasn't forgotten. That was impossible.   
Sometimes there were days when a dozen things would remind   
her, in some gentle and prompting way, of her time with   
him. There had been several times where she'd questioned   
her actions after the incident. Maybe she was too harsh.   
She knew he loved her and people make mistakes. A tiny part   
of her ached to forgive him; a big part of her missed   
everything about him, from the disgusting way he spat   
sunflower seed shells out into his hand to how he moaned   
her name and told her over and over again that he loved   
her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

"You're working late."

Scully jumped, the tools she'd been arranging at the   
countertop clanging noisily. "Jesus. Mulder." It took her a   
moment to turn and face him. He saw the hesitation in her   
eyes, the uncharacteristic slump of her shoulders. "You   
don't scare someone like that when she's got a scalpel in   
her hand."

He took in her loose blue scrubs and bright white sneakers.   
Gorgeous, even then. "Sorry," he said, slowly walking into   
the exam room.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, leaning back   
against the counter.

"Well, your car was here. And you teach class until 9:50 on   
Thursday nights." He blushed at his intimate knowledge of   
her daily schedule. Way to go. Smooth. Stalker.

"Hmmm," she murmured, her fingers tapping. He stood in   
front of her and she looked away, fingers keeping the beat.   
His heart was in his throat. He'd just ended up there. He'd   
told himself not to go, but his desire to see her and talk   
to her again had finally gotten the best of him. He'd held   
out for so long. Seeing her with Monica at that little deli   
that afternoon had sent him over the top.

Her voice soothed his ears. It quelled the chaos inside of   
him. "So, how are you, Mulder? We haven't spoken in..."

"A long time," he said, running a hand through his hair.   
"I'm surviving. You?"

"I'm all right," she said. Her blue eyes met his intent   
gaze. He knew she was questioning his motives for coming   
tonight. Scully picked up a few of the tools and walked   
them over to the stainless steel autopsy slab. She placed   
them down with such care. An artist's tools, essential to   
her craft. Funny the things we attach to, he thought.

"Scully, I just...I wanted to say how sorry I am about what I   
said in the office," he blurted out. He couldn't find the   
right words. He gave up. Blurting was sufficient at this   
point.

"I know you are." She ran her fingers over the gray matte   
surface of the table. "It's all right. I've moved on."

He shifted his feet. "I haven't."

Scully closed her eyes, taking an audibly deep breath,   
letting it go. Her jaw tightened. He stepped closer,   
cautious, his body tingling just being in her vicinity   
again. "Mulder, we can't dwell on the past. It's not   
healthy."

He couldn't resist getting even closer to her. She sensed   
him near and opened her eyes, meeting his with one of her   
trademark looks of confused curiosity.

"The past is all I have," Mulder murmured, pressing his   
hand against her cheek. Scully's lip quivered once. Her   
head rested against his palm and she shook her head,   
blinking away tears. Sometimes they could talk with their   
eyes. He tried to hear what she was saying in his mind. He   
hoped it was the same message he conveyed to her.

He was surprised as she slid her hands over the sides of   
his collar and pulled him into a hungry kiss, her tongue   
pushing past his lips, sweet and soft. He whimpered against   
her, sliding his hands over her back and bottom. He wanted   
to devour her and kissed her back, willing it to happen.

He hoisted her on top of the steel table, their mouths   
roughly exploring the mysterious familiarity of it all.

"What are we doing?" she panted against his mouth. His   
response was a groan as her fingernails dug into the back   
of his neck, sending painful pleasure down his body. Their   
eyes locked as he dragged her mouth into his kiss, deep and   
wanting. He wanted to take her into him, all of her. The   
gentle perfume on the hollow of her neck, the pungent odor   
of the medical soap she'd scrubbed up with moments before.   
Her firm body, her demanding eyes, her relentless, untamed   
spirit. Every word she whispered. He wanted it all, to   
capture it and keep it for himself.

Mulder yanked at her loose scrub pants, caught under her   
bottom. She pulled on his neck and lifted her hips up so he   
could tear them off her body. The bare skin of her thighs   
hit the cold stainless steel table. He caught her gasp with   
his mouth again. Sporadic thoughts spliced through his mind   
while he ran his hands up her legs, tucking them under her   
bottom. Need. Want. Scully. More. Don't stop...don't make   
me stop...

Scully slid a hand down between them, roughly assessing the   
hardness under the smooth fabric of his pants. Mulder broke   
their kiss, biting his lip to keep from moaning too loudly.   
He'd missed her touch; he'd not forgotten how blissful it   
was, how she innately knew the exact way to make him crazy   
with a few strokes of her fingertips. He'd stored every   
detail in a little, locked box labeled "Scully" in the back   
of his mind, one he'd hid away because it was too painful   
to acknowledge its existence when he couldn't touch her   
every day.

They took a break from kissing to allow their breath to   
catch up, their lips inches apart. Her fingers wandered up   
and down his length. Scully found his zipper and pulled it   
down. Her eyes turned serious, clouded with uncertainty. He   
didn't know how to answer her with words. She didn't look   
away an instant as her hand slid into his boxers and pulled   
him out, her cool hand wrapped around his searing skin. The   
sensation rushed to his forehead; he pressed his face   
against her neck and sighed, running his fingers along the   
waistband of her panties. Her moist breath teased his ear   
while her hand squeezed him, pulling intently. Her hips   
wiggled in his hands.

"What do you want from me?" Mulder said, his lips on her   
neck. Suddenly he felt lost in it, what it meant, what it   
didn't mean. He heard and felt her breath catch in her   
throat. She pulled on his hair, bringing his face to hers.

"I don't know," she whispered. She bit her cheek. Her feet,   
still clad in little white sneakers, swung back and forth   
gently. Her grip on his cock loosened and he tried to hide   
his disappointment, looking away from her intense gaze. His   
chest tightened as he held back his confusion with a gulp.

"I need you. I need you so much it hurts," he managed,   
meeting her eyes quickly. Another lump in his throat. Her   
brow furrowed for a split second. He'd seen that look   
before; he'd said something she didn't know how to take. A   
mix of confusion, wanting to believe but as always, the   
skeptic. For all of its simplicity, saying those words was   
like dropping an heirloom vase on tile. Would it or   
wouldn't it break?

Her fingernails pressed against the back of his head. "We   
can't do this here." He ran his hands back down her cool   
legs. She dropped her hand from his hair and let go of his   
penis, looking away. Too far away. He wanted to know what   
she was thinking.

"Scully?" Mulder said, tucking himself back inside his   
trousers. He picked up her scrub pants and slid her shoes   
through them, sliding the pants back up her legs. She held   
onto his shoulder and hopped down from the table.

"We can't go to my place," she said. She met his eyes and   
he understood that they might not be alone if they went   
there. It made him uneasy that Monica was probably waiting   
for her at home. Maybe she had made her dinner, rented a   
movie, drawn her a bath. He pushed it out of his mind.

"Mine's fine," he answered. "If you don't mind the mess."

"When have I ever minded the mess?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder walked Scully to her car. The chill of the night air   
tingled against her face. Nights turned quiet in this part   
of town after dark. The silence brought an eerie calm about   
it. She turned to face him at the passenger door, leaning   
against it and examining him carefully.

This is the man I left behind, she thought, her eyes   
drifting down his body. I'd never, ever left him behind   
before all of this.

He shifted uncomfortably as if he'd read her thoughts. "So,   
I'll meet you there?"

His eyes were already undressing her. She felt his   
imagination peeling each article of her clothing off to   
expose every inch of quivering skin beneath. She reminded   
herself to breathe. What he did to her...

"I can't wait," she said, sliding her arms around Mulder's   
neck and kissing him hard. His warm tongue reciprocated   
eagerly. Scully clung to him, her nipples hardening against   
his chest. He pressed her back up against the car door.   
They were in plain view of the world, under the parking lot   
floodlight, and she didn't give a damn.

"Me either," he whispered during a quick parting of lips   
before he captured her again. She felt drunk on his scent   
and the spice of his tongue as her breath quickened. More   
of him.

"No...I can't wait," she repeated, sliding her hands down   
his chest and dropping them to her sides. "Get in the   
backseat."

He stared at her and took precious seconds before he   
inhaled deeply. "Here? Scully..."

"Get in the car now." She gave him the look that warned him   
it was better not to argue. He should know that look by   
now. She didn't want to wait; she didn't want to spend the   
entire drive arguing with her common sense that this may   
not be the best idea. She needed him now before she changed   
her mind. She wanted to forget everything and feel him.

Mulder opened the back door and climbed in, sliding across   
the seat. Scully followed him.

She slammed the door shut and kicked off her sneakers,   
shimmying out of her scrub pants. She looked at him as she   
kicked her pants off her feet. Mulder's eyes were wide and   
a shade of confused she hadn't seen in some time and it   
turned her on even more.

Scully quickly moved over him, straddling his lap in her   
panties. She ground down against him, seeking the sensation   
of his hardness and finding it increasingly more evident.   
She ignored the tiny voice in her head that was,   
reprimanding her, demanding her to stop. Mulder groaned,   
pushing up against her as much as he could. His long legs   
struggled for comfort as his knees rubbed against the front   
seat.

"Scully, what are you doing to me?" he whispered.

She dipped her head to claim his lower lip in her mouth.   
Her hair fell across his cheeks as they shared bated   
breath.

Her mind raced. He felt too much like home. God, he felt so   
good, and it felt so...

Mulder's hands moved under the sides of her scrub top,   
sliding over her ribs to grab her breasts and pinch the   
hardened nipples trapped in her bra. She moaned, reaching a   
hand down between them to fumble at freeing his cock once   
again.

Scully's head was dizzy, her body coursing electric that   
emanated from his unrelenting fingers. He was so familiar   
to her. He knew her inside and out. A little more would   
send her over the edge already. She had to make him stop--  
as soon as she got his cock out of his boxers.

As if she willed it to happen he was free, straining and   
erect between her thighs. Mulder moved his hands to tug at   
the waist of her panties and she grabbed his wrists,   
pulling them up to place them across the top of the seat.

"Don't move," Scully whispered. She meant business. His   
cock bobbed in agreement. He left his hands there even when   
she let go.

Scully reached between them and pulled the crotch of her   
panties aside, pushing down onto him with a soft moan. His   
hardness pressed against her soft, slick flesh, waiting.   
She nipped at his lips with her teeth.

"Jesus, Scully," he groaned, digging his fingers into the   
leather of the backseat. Scully kissed him hard. She   
shifted her body, settling down on his cock with a forceful   
drop of her hips. She cried out against his mouth at the   
immediate fullness inside of her, hot and pulsing.

She returned her hands to his wrists and held him there as   
she began to ride him slowly, milking his cock and making   
him whimper as she pushed her tongue into his mouth,   
desperate to get closer, to get inside him as deeply as he   
was inside of her. Mulder's body began to shudder with each   
pull of her muscles against his flesh.

"Don't you come yet," she whispered. "Don't you dare come   
before me."

"I wanna make you come," he begged breathlessly.

"If I let you," she corrected him. "How would you do it?"

She rode him with deep thrusts and he growled deep in his   
throat. "Given the confines of space...Jesus...I'd love to   
be...oh fuck...fucking you with my tongue... but...   
mmmmm... with my fingers right now."

She felt her muscles around him twitch approvingly at the   
thought of his mouth on her. That would have to wait for   
another day. "Do it," she said, letting go of one wrist.   
She pushed her hand against his cheek, holding him in place   
as she stared into his eyes.

Mulder's hand slipped between them and immediately found   
the hardened nub of flesh above where they were joined. His   
fingers wet, he rubbed her hard and she moaned his name,   
her hips responding to the sweet arousal that flooded over   
her body. She slid her thumb across his mouth and he sucked   
it in just the way he'd always sucked her clit. She gritted   
her teeth and came against his hand, around him, and she   
brought him with her.

His hips rose up in a powerful thrust. His other hand broke   
free of the tiny grip around his wrist and grabbed her by   
the back of her hair. Scully gasped and he kissed her   
roughly as the tiny spasms of spent arousal ricocheted   
through her body.

"Unhh," he managed to say.

She dropped her forehead to his, catching her breath. He   
looked lost. She tried to ignore it, but she was a little   
lost too. How quickly it had all happened, something she'd   
told herself she'd never do again. She'd given in, because   
she wanted it. She needed it. She didn't want to need it.

"What do you want from me?" Mulder repeated the question   
he'd murmured against her neck half an hour ago.

"That's pretty obvious, isn't it?" Scully searched his eyes   
with a half smile. He was still inside of her as their   
bodies relaxed. Keenly aware of the fact that they should   
pull apart, given the round of security that was due, she   
slid off of his lap.

Mulder remained still. "It's a serious question."

She pulled up her scrub pants and leaned back onto the   
seat. "I know. I'm sorry."

Mulder turned his head to look at her. It was painful, the   
dispirited look in his eyes. "I can't only be this to you,   
Scully. I won't be."

Scully felt her heart break a little. She'd never expected   
or wanted him to be her circumstantial lover but that was   
exactly what had happened. He didn't deserve it, even if   
dragging him back into her made her feel complete again.

"I need some time," she said softly, staring at the   
headrest in front of her.

"Honestly, Scully, I don't have much more time to give you.   
If this is over, I need to know. I have the right to know.   
You have to decide if you want me."

An unsettling queasiness fell over her as she heard him   
zipping up his pants.

"I'll see you later," he said, shutting the car door.


	5. Chapter 5

Monica was lounging on the couch when Dana walked into the   
apartment an hour later than usual. She'd had a hard day at work   
herself; she'd taken a hot bath and let dinner get cold while she   
waited for Dana to arrive. She knew Dana taught a late class on   
Thursdays, but it was a little too late for Monica's comfort. She   
watched Dana kick off her shoes at the door, instantly detecting   
a nervous energy in her demeanor.

"It's late," Monica said. "Was everything okay tonight?"

Dana walked past the couch into the kitchen to grab a glass from   
the cabinet. "Yeah. I'm thirsty."

"Are you hungry? I can microwave dinner. Have you eaten?" Monica   
chided herself for being annoyingly attentive. She stood up from   
the couch and wandered over to Dana, who was filling her glass   
with cool water from the fridge.

Monica slid her arms around Dana's waist and felt her tense up.   
Something was definitely wrong. This was not the warm reception   
she was accustomed to after so many hours apart.

"I'm not hungry," Dana said, taking a gulp of water.

"You're not hungry. Dana, what's wrong?" She pressed her lips   
against the back of Dana's head, wanting to read her thoughts.

"Mmm, just a hard day at work."

Monica debated pressing her more, but decided against it. She   
wondered if it had something to do with Mulder. He'd been   
uncharacteristically absent for weeks. Monica assumed that he   
knew there was something going on between the two of them, and   
that was probably the reason why he'd backed off.

Monica slid one hand over Dana's abdomen, rubbing her stomach and   
letting her fingers slip a little lower. She tried to tuck her   
hand between Dana's legs. Dana pulled away and Monica looked at   
her. Definitely not normal. Definitely something wrong.

"Have you heard from Mulder?"

"Why does it matter?" Dana set her glass down on the counter.

"Well I just thought maybe that was the reason why you were so   
upset."

"Do I really seem that upset to you?"

So it was him.

"Yes," Monica answered, feeling a little frustrated at the   
unusual brick wall she was hitting. She felt a twinge of nausea   
in her stomach, a little voice in her mind fabricating reasons   
and situations she didn't want to believe might be true. "Did you   
see him tonight?"

Dana turned to face her. She looked angry and exhausted, but   
couldn't hide the flush that spread across her cheeks when Monica   
asked about Mulder. Shit, Monica thought. That's it. "What did   
you do?"

"Monica. Lay off the interrogation, okay?"

Monica shrugged and stepped away from her. "If you don't want to   
talk about it, that's fine."

"I really don't," was Dana's reply as she walked off to the   
bathroom.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully couldn't get to the bathroom quick enough. She slammed the   
door shut and locked it before she crumbled at the guilt and   
confusion that forced themselves through her numbed senses.

She stripped off her scrubs and underclothes. She balled up her   
panties and threw them in the corner. She smelled like him--his   
amazing, addictive scent.

For a moment she could still feel him inside of her, still hear   
the surrender in his whispered words. It was so frustrating to   
try and forget about Mulder, to let go of all of her pent-up   
feelings for him. She'd tried so many times, like every time   
she'd thought he was dead, when he was abducted and left her   
alone to bury him. And now she'd tried to convince herself that   
she'd given up after the night after the tavern, but she   
couldn't. She kept coming back. He was like an addiction.

She climbed into the tub to find solace in the liquid burn of the   
shower. Her thoughts went instantly to the last shower she'd had   
with him, slippery with soap and sex. What the hell are you   
doing, Dana?

The levee broke. Her tears flooded over her carefully constructed   
denial for the first time in weeks. You make me sick, she thought   
over and over, fists balled together, fingernails digging into   
her palms.

She had never been like this. Never this needy, never this   
deceitful. Never cheated on anyone, never had two lovers at once,   
never felt her heart torn in two.

What have I become? This is not me. This is what love does to   
people, she thought.

Monica. It should be easier to let her go. She'd only known her   
for months, compared to the years she'd spent with Mulder. Scully   
had tried a few times to convince herself that Monica was a   
mistake, but there was no way to pass it off that easily. As soon   
as they'd kissed her world as she knew it imploded.

She embarrassed and shocked herself to admit that some parts of   
being with Monica and Mulder felt the same. She didn't know why   
every kiss, every brush of the hair, every stare tugged her heart   
in nearly the same ways. And not knowing why was something she   
couldn't accept.

She wondered if Mulder could really leave her for good. He'd made   
it sound so easy in the car tonight when he'd told her to make a   
decision. He was too proud to let her know how much he'd hurt.   
She knew he did, like she had hurt, muted and alone. Sometimes in   
the middle of the night when the darkness was the only thing she   
could see, she would lie awake and wonder if he too was   
sleepless.

In years past they'd call each other, in months past she'd go to   
his place and nestle into his strong arms until they found peace.

Now she would normally turn to Monica and pull her close,   
nuzzling into her soft hair to leave those thoughts behind.

Tonight she didn't want either of them. Tonight she wanted to   
leave everything and everyone, to live in a void safe from   
confusion and passion. Her feelings were nothing she could   
rationalize and it was driving her crazy. Either path she chose,   
a heart would be broken, and she'd leave a piece of herself   
behind.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Monica got ready for bed in Dana's guest room. She'd been tempted   
to take off and go back to her apartment but a nagging conscience   
wouldn't let her leave. She was a little humiliated that she was   
afraid of hurting Dana's feelings by going home. She wanted to be   
angry at Dana for seeing Mulder tonight. She'd done more than see   
him, of that she was sure. Dana exuded sex, and she couldn't hide   
it well.

Monica innately knew that she was attracted to broken people,   
like a doctor was attracted to the sick. She wanted to help them,   
to cure them, to make them better. She was convinced she was the   
person for the job every time she was pulled into another   
relationship. If I love you a little more, if I give you   
everything I have, maybe I can fix you. The heartbreak that had   
always followed just made her more determined to do a better job   
the next time.

She was irritated at this part of her personality, but it was   
there, like some sort of sick condition she couldn't shake. When   
she'd met Dana, she'd instantly seen the heartbreak set in her   
eyes. Dana tried to hide it with radiant strength, but Monica saw   
a deeply wounded woman. She felt empathy; she felt a connection   
she couldn't describe.

I'm sick, Monica thought as she slipped under the cool sheets.   
She had warned herself after each broken relationship that it   
would be the last, told herself she was better off alone. And now   
she'd tripped right into another. As much as she hoped things   
would last, she was afraid it would end up like the rest of them   
if she failed again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day dragged on like no other. All Mulder could think   
about was Scully, that generic autopsy table, her tiny white   
sneakers, her goddamned car, and her breathy little moans. He   
arrived at work late and decided to leave early, seeing as he   
couldn't concentrate enough to read or even form a coherent   
sentence. Not that he talked to anyone at work anyway. Besides   
Skinner. And he was avoiding the boss man like the plague: he   
could read him too well and would be on his ass to find out what   
was the issue behind his brooding du jour.

Mulder made his way to his car in the parking structure,   
wondering if he should do the morning-after, afternoon-after,   
calling, or if he should let Scully make the call. And then he   
cursed himself for being such a pussy about all of it. She had   
his balls in her hands and it drove him absolutely nuts   
sometimes.

He wondered if she'd told Monica about it when she got home. His   
instincts said no, that she'd hidden it all, so good at   
pretending nothing happened. Nothing at all. Just forgetting that   
she'd come around him, riding him within inches of his life, just   
an hour or so earlier. It was all shades of fucked up.

Mulder opened the door to his car and a voice from behind him   
made him freeze.

"I know she was with you last night."

Mulder closed his eyes, instantly recognizing who it was. Oh, the   
irony, as if his thoughts had called her to his exact location   
like some sort of Angst GPS. He'd thought about this moment over   
the past few hours and was actually anticipating it with a mix of   
dread and satisfaction.

Mulder turned to face Monica. Now there was a portrait of   
jealousy.

"Nice to see you too," he said.

"Cut the shit, Mulder," Monica said. "This has been a long time   
coming for us."

"Go on." He tried to appear completely disinterested, just to   
mess with her. Like a cat pinning a mouse by the tail, he   
carefully batted at her raw emotions. "Did she tell you all about   
it?"

Monica was a few feet in front of him now, standing her ground.   
She could command attention and respect, he gave her that. "Dana   
didn't tell me, but I could smell it on her, Mulder, and maybe   
you could let me know exactly what the fuck you're doing."

"Why don't you ask your girlfriend?"

Her eyes were dark as smoldering coals. "You know, I used to   
respect you, your reputation, your passion. Your surface-level   
chivalry toward her. I envied it, desired it. Worked my ass off   
to be like that. But now I know the truth. Deep down, you're just   
another fucked-up man. And that's all you are to her, too."

That hurt. Mulder tried to hide what he imagined was a gaping,   
bleeding puncture to his heart. Right through the chest, her   
precise, sniper accuracy sending him reeling. His knuckles turned   
white on the edge of the open car door as he collected his   
response.

"You have no idea what I am to her. What she is to me. You'll   
never know what that's like, Monica, to live your life for   
another person. It's something that can't be easily destroyed."

"You don't know the first thing about me," Monica said.

"I know how you feel inside."

For a moment, Mulder thought she was going to jump him and beat   
his ass. Her entire body twitched in anger and he watched,   
nervously awaiting her next move, verbal or physical.

"You're such a dick," she whispered, fury punctuating her every   
word.

"Apparently."

"You know what, Mulder? I can't ask you to stay away from her.   
This whole thing is up to Dana. I want her to be happy. There   
must have been some inane reason why she fucked you last night.   
I'll find out why, and I'll be there the next time you break her,   
picking up the pieces you shattered through your own hedonistic   
pursuits."

All he had left was a nod of his head. He slid into the car and   
left her standing angry.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They were lying on opposite ends of Monica's couch, legs meeting   
in the middle. Even more specifically, sharing a soft microfleece   
blanket and watching Being John Malkovich. The sin of the night   
was chocolate-covered Oreos, which Monica had turned Dana on to   
quite easily despite her protests that "they were vessels of   
partially hydrogenated oils" and they would go straight to her   
thighs. Monica would put money on the fact that they wouldn't.

She'd popped one right into Dana's mouth as she droned on about   
the evils of covering fat in chocolate. Dana pretended not to   
like it, but Monica knew a liar when she saw one. And Dana was   
admirably bad at lying while she savored something so sweet and   
forbidden.

She watched Dana munch on her cookie and slid her foot over the   
inside of Dana's thigh, underneath her knee-length skirt. Monica   
flicked her toes against Dana's panties and Dana glanced at her,   
trying to hide her smile.

"Your legs are too long," Dana said. Monica felt Dana wiggle her   
hips to get a little bit closer to Monica's prying foot. She felt   
the moist heat against her toes and sucked on her Oreo, watching   
Dana lick a few crumbs off of her bottom lip with the tip of her   
tongue.

She drew a deep breath, trying to remind herself that she was   
supposed to be angry, that she wanted answers as to what had   
happened between Dana and Mulder the night before. She already   
knew--it was obvious in a number of ways--but she wanted to know   
why it happened. She needed to know.

But this woman is just too goddamned cute, Monica thought. Herein   
lies the problem.

"Your legs are too short," Monica answered. She dropped her empty   
bowl to the floor and pulled the blanket over her head to find   
Dana's wiggling toes. She kissed the tops of Dana's feet in the   
stuffy darkness under the blanket. She heard a giggle from   
outside and moved her mouth up one silky calf, kissing to her   
knee.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dana smacked her head through the   
blanket as Monica nipped at the inside of her knee. "I'm not   
going to let you out."

"I don't want out." Monica nuzzled against her lap. She kissed   
her abdomen and pushed her head out from under Dana's side of the   
blanket, hands on either side of her. Dana offered her an Oreo   
and she bit it, staring intently into blue eyes that teased her   
and confused her all at once. Dana ate the rest of her Oreo   
without looking away.

"I could watch you for hours," Monica said, resting her head   
against Dana's stomach. Dana sifted fingers through Monica's hair   
and looked back at the television screen.

"Why did they pick John Malkovich?" Dana asked.

Monica closed her eyes, enjoying the soft tugs on her hair, the   
gentle scent of Dana's skin. She kissed Dana's belly button   
through her cotton dress shirt. "Hmmm. Bald is sexy. Like A.D.   
Skinner."

Dana laughed softly and Monica slid her body up a little more,   
resting her head on Dana's shoulder. She kissed the side of her   
neck, wondering if Mulder had kissed her there last night,   
wondering if it felt the same, or better, when he did it.

"Dana..." Monica kissed her neck again, inciting a little moan   
from Dana's throat. "How do you feel about me?"

She felt Dana stop breathing for a few seconds, then sigh, her   
body tensing. Monica looked at the screen, at the mixed up people   
all fighting over who really loved who and why. Dana was silent,   
uncomfortably so.

"Dana?"

"Monica, you know I care about you."

Monica knew what that line meant. She'd heard it, oh, a dozen   
times before. It was what people said when they were afraid of   
saying anything else. People care about their cars, they care   
about their cats, they care about how the Red Sox did in the   
playoffs. Care could mean so much and so little at the same time.   
She didn't care for the word care at all.

"Dana, I'm serious. I don't think you know how serious I am." She   
listened to Dana's heartbeat as she pressed her ear against her   
chest.

Dana turned off the movie and they sat quietly in the pale white   
light of the living room lamp.

"Why are you asking me this now?" Dana's words were close to a   
whisper, like she knew she'd been found out, like there was a   
serious reprimand coming, some sort of consequence to her   
actions.

Monica wished she was strong enough to go through with what her   
mind had screamed at her earlier, on the way home from the   
parking garage encounter with Mulder. To tell Dana she knew what   
she did, to tell her how much it seared her heart, how it chipped   
away at the beautiful, naive bliss Monica had fabricated over the   
past weeks of their relationship. A bliss based on feelings she   
thought had been true.

"Because I need to know how you feel," Monica said. "Last night   
when you came home, I knew something had happened. Something you   
were afraid to tell me about because you might hurt me if you   
told me."

Dana shifted on the couch, sitting up. Monica pulled away from   
her comfortable place on Dana's chest, sitting cross-legged next   
to her. This was the part where Dana Scully pulled away,   
physically, emotionally. The part where she went into crisis   
mode, into her shell of protection. It was textbook. Monica had   
seen Dana do it a few times before, but never thought it would be   
because of them.

"How did you know?" Dana murmured, closing her eyes.

"Dana...I just knew. You know how that works. And it didn't help   
that you freaked out on me and avoided me the rest of the night."

Dana folded her arms across her chest. "Monica, I don't know what   
I'm doing. I'm so messed up. You have no idea how screwed up I've   
been since this all happened."

"You've seemed fairly happy to me," Monica said, reaching over to   
tuck Dana's hair behind her ear. "I want to think that you were   
really happy, not just pretending. I don't think you were."

Dana chewed on her cheek, keeping her eyes closed. "I was happy.   
But life isn't that simple, Monica. You've made me happy, but so   
has he, so often I lose count sometimes."

"Well, you have to decide who you want." Monica hated saying the   
words, hated the uncertainty they yielded. She wanted to make the   
decision for her. It would be so easy.

"That's what I heard," Dana said, finally opening her eyes and   
casting a glance in Monica's direction. "I don't know why the   
culmination of this whole mess lies on me."

"Because you..." Monica paused with a deep sigh. She wrung her   
hands together and met Dana's gaze. "Because we both want you."

Monica watched the frustration tick across Dana's face. She   
looked like she was in physical pain over the thought that two   
people could want her. In fact, she was impressively ignorant of   
the fact that she couldn't be more desirable.

"Why do you both want me?"

"I can't speak for him. I can only speak for myself." Monica   
smoothed her fingers over the blanket, trying to find comfort in   
its softness.

"Well, are you going to do that?" Dana's stare intensified, like   
she was challenging for an answer, yet afraid of what she would   
hear. Monica swallowed, her throat tightening for a split second   
before she composed herself again.

"Because you're beautiful. Your mind, your body. There's   
something infinite about you, something bright and strong. People   
are drawn to it. I'm drawn to it. It's powerful, it heals."

Dana took several deep breaths, staring off into the dark corner   
of the room. "I don't like being put in this position."

"Dana, you put yourself in this position. And now you have to   
face it. You don't like hurting people, and someone is bound to   
get hurt. We've all hurt already." Monica turned to face her,   
pulling Dana's hand into her lap. She traced light circles on her   
palm. "I don't want you to hurt any more, Dana. I'm worried that   
you will if you make the wrong decision here."

Their eyes met and Monica felt a burning threat of tears.

"I want you to let me take care of you," Monica whispered. "I   
want to be that for you. I really think we can make this work,   
together, that I can make you happy. I think I have made you   
happy."

Dana nodded once, her chin quivering. Monica kissed Dana's   
knuckles, pressing them against her mouth.

"I need time to think," Dana whispered. She pulled her hand away   
and stood up.

"You're leaving?" Monica sat back, quickly wiping the tear that   
had accidently escaped.

"I need to think."

Monica watched Dana grab her purse and hoped she would turn   
around for a quick goodbye, a kiss, anything. She didn't. She   
slipped out the front door, softly closing it behind her and   
leaving the room hollow and cold in her wake.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The unexpected knock on his apartment door came as Mulder was   
tossing a used carton of orange juice into the kitchen trash.   
Used because he'd poured the last few shots of Absolut he found   
in his cabinet into a tumbler, sucked it down and chased it with   
OJ straight from the container. He wiped the corner of his mouth   
with his wrist and glanced at the clock. 6 p.m. His pizza wasn't   
due for another thirty minutes, either that or Tom the delivery   
guy deserved an astronomical tip.

He opened the door. Scully was standing with one hand on her hip,   
her head tilted, eyes cast downward. Her hair covered half her   
face, but not enough to cover the confusion in her eyes as she   
glanced up toward him. He stood aside to allow her in.

He wondered why she'd come over--he liked to think there was only   
one reason why she'd come over, and it was dangerous and   
unhealthy, but he tried to discard that thinking as she   
wordlessly wandered inside. Of course she was wearing one of   
those knee-length pencil skirts that drove him absolutely up a   
wall.

Mulder tried to make sense of the situation. Scully probably   
wanted to talk about the night before. Maybe Monica had told her   
about the parking garage, how he'd been such a dick because he   
was intimidated. Maybe she was going to give him another   
trademark Scully lecture, tell him off again, tell him how   
inconsiderate and male he was.

All day he'd tried to forget his toxic thoughts of her in the   
back of her car, slick and hot, her sweet smell invading his   
senses. It was pointless, and he'd eventually given up, letting   
them roll through his head like thunder that never brought a   
storm.

"So what brings you here tonight?" Mulder shifted his feet,   
running a hand through his hair. She turned to him in the middle   
of his living room. He could read her face like a book, and   
tonight's subject was Love Triangles: What a Really Fucking Bad   
Idea.

Scully's stare could peel the paint off walls. "I'm all screwed   
up, Mulder. I don't know what I'm doing. I needed to see you. I   
needed to see how I'd feel."

Oh Jesus, he thought. He walked up to her, his heartbeat pounding   
in his ears. She came here for me. She came here for me, and   
that's what she'll get.

Her eyes flicked down his chest and slowly back up to his face.   
It gave him chills. Mulder noticed her breath quicken, soft wisps   
of air escaping her pursed lips as she studied him. He grabbed   
the back of her head and kissed her, pushing his tongue roughly   
into her mouth. He felt her fingers drag across the tendons of   
his neck as she pulled him deeper.

He tugged at the zipper on the side of her hip and Scully grabbed   
his hand, pulling it away. "Mulder..." she breathed, lips inches   
from his.

"I'm going to show you how you feel," he whispered. He snaked his   
other hand around her back and circled her wrist with his   
fingers. Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled her hand   
behind her back, kissing her again. His free fingers found the   
zipper and yanked it down, letting her skirt fall to her feet.   
She kissed him harder, lipstick sliding against his mouth. Mulder   
slid his hand across the front of her silky panties and   
officially gave up on rationality. It was a nice thought while it   
lasted.

Instead, he slid his arm under her legs and swept her up in his   
arms. Scully gasped and clasped her hands at the nape of his   
neck. He watched her brow furrow as her tongue traced the outline   
of her lips. Mulder walked toward his room, carrying her, easing   
her past the doorframe and tossing her onto the bed. She bounced   
with a little "oof."

And there she lay on her back, panting, blinking doe eyes at him,   
and all he wanted to do was make her pant more. No, not just   
pant. Moan, groan, scream his name. Make her remember what she   
was missing out on.

"What do you want from me now?" Mulder asked, standing over her.   
Her stare was equal parts desire and uncertainty. "Do you want me   
to tell you what I want from you?"

Scully's mouth fell open slightly and she nodded. He felt his   
cock twinge and willed himself to be patient. He sat on the side   
of the bed and turned to her, running a finger up the inside of   
her bare calf. He reached her inner thigh and kept going to the   
damp fabric between her legs.

"I want to put my mouth here," Mulder said, pressing two fingers   
into the damp silk. "I want to open you up with my tongue and   
taste you."

That made her moan and shift her hips against his hand, just like   
he knew it would. Scully didn't look away, not for a second. He   
ground his palm against her, cupping her bottom with his fingers.   
He could feel her swollen and hot.

"Then I want to push my tongue inside of you..."

Scully tried to bite back another moan but miserably failed. He   
closed his eyes, his erection painfully hard, throbbing under his   
jeans.

"...and then I'm going to eat you until you come."

"Mulder," she whispered, pressing down against his hand. Her head   
rolled on his pillow. "Jesus, Mulder."

"...and then I'm going to fuck you until you can't take it any   
more."

Scully's mouth opened wide with a tiny whimper. He watched her   
struggle to gain her composure, as much as she could muster.

"What are you waiting for?" she breathed. Mulder smiled and   
pulled his jeans down with his boxers, holding back the gasp at   
cool air meeting his hot skin. Then he crawled over her and   
kissed her open mouth. She kissed back, as hungry for him as he   
was for her. Her fingernails slid up his black t-shirt, scraping   
his skin.

He left her dress shirt on, moving down her body to slide her   
panties down her legs. "I want you to watch me," he said, his   
lips moving against her stomach.

Mulder looked up to see her peeking down at him. "Okay," she   
said.

It was so tiny and desperate, her perfect little agreement. He   
kept his eyes on her as he ran his tongue between her legs,   
pushing deeper into her flesh. He'd thought that he'd forgotten   
what she tasted like, but having her on his tongue again sparked   
that memory.

He knew what it took to make her start moving her hips along with   
the stroke of his tongue and quickly went for it. A rough, flat   
lick of her clit, over and over again, and she was moaning and   
trying with all her might to keep her eyes open, to keep that   
promised connection between them.

Mulder grazed his teeth over her and she clawed at his head,   
gripping his hair. He didn't care if she pulled out his hair; he   
wasn't going to stop. He didn't ever want to stop. In fact, he   
contemplated staying there forever, for a split second wondering   
if he could make some sort of living out of eating Scully out.   
Probably not without a video camera. Special Agents Gone Bad.   
Terribly, terribly bad. He decided against it. He didn't want to   
share.

He heard Scully's whimpers get louder, knew she was close to   
coming. His mind flashed to Monica, wondering if she whimpered   
the same way under Monica's mouth. If they did the same things,   
which one of them felt better to her.

"You gonna come, Scully?" Mulder quickly passed off his thoughts,   
instead focusing on the twirl of his tongue around her clit, then   
sliding it down and inside of her as deep as it could go.

"Fuck yeah," she whispered, closing her eyes and grinding her   
hips against him.

"Look at me, Scully." He watched her force her eyes open as he   
lapped at her again. Her body quivered and she cried out sharply,   
her hips rising off the bed. He caught her bottom in his hands   
and kept at it, moaning against her wetness. He felt like he was   
going to come right then and there, all over the fucking sheets,   
a complete and pointless mess, just because of the delicious   
sounds she made.

A few more drags of his tongue and he lifted himself up on his   
arms. "Turn over."

"What?" Scully, still recovering, bit her upper lip.

"You heard me."

And she had heard him, and this time obediently flipped over onto   
her stomach. She pushed up on her hands and knees, her bottom   
grazing against his cock. He groaned. It had been way too long   
since he'd seen this beautiful view.

"You want this, Mulder?" Scully rubbed against him more and he   
swore he could hear her purr. He slid over her body, their shirts   
catching as he pushed his face into the back of her hair. He   
grabbed his cock and pushed into her, all the way in with one   
hard thrust. Scully moaned very, very naughty words, all strung   
out in a row, as he felt silky hot muscle clench against him.

"Tell me how you really feel," he groaned, pulling out and   
thrusting deep again.

"You tell me...how I feel." She twisted her hips, teasing him. He   
growled low in his throat, trying to come up with enough coherent   
words to describe it.

"Hot..." He thrust harder into her and she whimpered. "And like   
you really...really... need this."

"I do," she breathed, squeezing him again in heated bliss. Mulder   
closed his eyes, desperate to hold off. A few deep breaths and he   
regained his composure to start fucking her slowly, deeply, with   
hard thrusts that nearly pushed her down against the bed. Scully   
held her own--he was always amazed at how she could do that--  
meeting his hips with her bottom over and over again.

"Can she fuck you like this, Scully?" He thrust into her harder,   
pressing his chest against her back and nipping at her neck. He   
didn't know where that question came from, popping in out of the   
blue from his subconscious curiosity. Scully arched her back   
against him with a moan, her hips keeping his rhythm. "Hard, like   
this? Does she know how you like to be fucked?"

In an instant she fell down against the bed, rolling away from   
him onto her back. She was panting, sweaty and beautiful. And   
also angry as hell. He sat back on his calves, watching her. Long   
seconds passed as she caught her breath to speak.

"Mulder, stop it already. Jesus."

"What?"

"Stop comparing yourself to her."

He felt a slight flush in his cheeks when she called him out. It   
was true, he was comparing himself to Monica, which was   
admittedly the most fucking stupid thing for him to do. They were   
separate people, probably completely different lovers, but he   
needed to know who was better, who made her feel more complete.   
He needed to know if the reason why she came over tonight was   
because she chose him, but he didn't want to put his tail between   
his legs, again, and ask her, again, what her decision was going   
to be.

"What do you expect me to do?"

"You know...I don't know what I expected you to do." Scully drew   
her legs up to her chest and hugged them. She was so tiny,   
shadows dancing across her face as she put her chin on her knee.   
She looked at him, guilt in her eyes. Good, maybe she should feel   
guilty for everything he put her through.

"Well, I think you had a pretty good idea of what I'd do when you   
came over here."

"What, that you were going to fuck me?"

Her words sent him reeling a bit. It took a lot to make him feel   
exposed, but he felt it now, naked from the waist down. Mulder   
lay down on his stomach and rested his head on his folded arms.   
She turned to face him.

"That's not all I'm going to be to you," he said.

"Is that all I am to you?" she asked, her voice soft.

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Here we are again. Circling around,   
semantic warfare. How long do you want to do this, Scully? I've   
got all night. I've got the rest of my life."

"What do you want from me, Mulder?" She reached out with   
tentative fingers, stroking his cheek, and he turned his face to   
kiss them. He couldn't resist it.

"We've covered this before. I want you. I want all of you. In   
fact, I want exclusive rights to you."

Scully dropped her hand to the bed with a sigh. An easy   
distraction, he thought as they both watched her fingers   
aimlessly tracing invisible shapes on the sheets.

"You know...sometimes...I long for the simpler days. Before all   
of this. Before your abduction, before my cancer, before   
we...became lovers, Mulder."

"Why?"

"Because it was easier." Her fingers curled on the sheets.

"Maybe it was easier for you," Mulder murmured, watching her   
refuse to look at him. "My life was a complete hell. A lonely,   
fantastical existence. And then you came along. Like the eclipse   
finally moved past the sun. And some days I can't figure out if   
you pulled me out of that dark, or if I dragged you into it with   
me."

Scully's eyes met his. "Mulder, some days I don't know that   
either."

"But you know what the difference is, Scully? Between Monica and   
me? You and I have that past. There are no other two people in   
this world who have been through what we have together. I think   
that should count for something. I think it should count for a   
lot."

Mulder watched her fight back the tears that threatened to topple   
her well-built defenses. He hadn't seen her that way for a really   
long time--vulnerable, letting herself feel what he knew was the   
truth.

A hard knock on the door startled them both. Mulder snapped his   
eyes shut. Fucking half sausage, half mushroom, extra cheese.   
"You hungry, Scully?"

She was nothing but bewildered. "You ordered pizza? When?"

He pulled on his boxers and walked out of the bedroom. "While I   
was making you come. I have a psychic connection to Antonio's."

"In that case, it should be interesting to see what's on it," she   
said, her first small smile since she'd arrived.

Mulder wondered what he looked like, more so what he smelled   
like, when he opened the door to Tom the delivery driver. Tom   
gave him the once-over and exchanged the cardboard box and a   
knowing smile for cash.

"Enjoy," he said. Mulder sneered at him and shut the door in his   
face. He tossed the box onto the kitchen counter and opened his   
fridge, pulling out an unopened bottle of San Pellegrino he had   
left over from the last time she came over. She'd been on her   
mineral water kick. He wondered if she was still on it.

Another knock on the door and Mulder slammed the fridge. If Tom   
asked to join in he'd get a rapid punch to that dazzling smile of   
his.

"You got my red pepper packets?" Mulder said, pulling open the   
door.

"Did you order enough for three?" Monica pushed her way past him   
into his apartment.

"What the hell are you doing?" He shut the door, knowing if he   
tried to kick her out he'd probably lose.

Monica folded her arms and faced him. "I thought we could all   
have a nice conversation. You supply the food, I'll supply the   
fucking reality."


	6. Chapter 6

Four words she'd never say in front of her mother ran through   
Scully's mind as she heard Monica enter the apartment. And then   
the wave of nausea hit her stomach. She should have known better.   
She'd been tailed, staked out, and caught in the act.

And of course, her skirt was lying on the floor of his living   
room, incriminating evidence of what had transpired.

She rolled out of bed and walked to the dresser. She should at   
least be fully clothed if Monica walked in. She yanked open   
Mulder's top left drawer, her drawer, and underneath layers of   
lacy lingerie she found one pair of pajama pants with happy   
monkey faces on them, a gag gift from Mulder on her birthday.   
Great, she thought. Fantastic.

She pulled on the pants, her stomach twisting again. Monica   
wanted to have a conversation, the three of them. She'd heard   
that through the open doorway. And she wasn't sure she could   
handle it. In fact, she'd been avoiding it for way too long. It   
was much easier to ignore the pain of reality one more day at a   
time. She felt queasy again, overwhelmed by it. She made it to   
Mulder's bathroom just in time for her vomit to land in the   
toilet bowl.

"Scully?" Mulder's voice echoed in the bedroom. He walked into   
the bathroom as she pulled down a hand towel and wiped her mouth.

"Oh, Jesus. Scully."

She picked up Mulder's toothpaste and took a fingerful to swish   
out her mouth with minty water. Not great tasting, but better   
than vomit. She looked in the mirror. Her hair was tousled and   
sweaty, her cheeks still mildly flushed. She wanted to crawl back   
into his bed, no, her bed, and sleep for a hundred years. Sleep   
to forget it all, to wake up alone, with nobody to hurt but   
herself.

"Monica's--" He faltered when Scully shot him an icy glare,   
tossing the hand towel into the hamper as she brushed past him.

Scully walked into the living room and stopped. Monica was   
standing with the skirt in her hand. She looked down at Scully's   
pajama pants, then into her eyes. "Nice. Oh, by the way, you   
dropped this on your way in."

Monica tossed the skirt at her and it fell to the floor. Scully   
closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath. You can do this, she   
thought. You won't lose it, not now. You can't lose it, not now.   
She looked at Monica as calmly as she could. "What are you doing   
here?"

The anger that flashed in Monica's eyes was expected yet   
alarming. "Excuse me? What are you doing here?"

"You shouldn't have followed me."

"Well, I'm glad I did. Because last time I checked, 'I need to   
think' didn't mean 'I need to go to Mulder's and fuck over a   
pizza,'" Monica said, her voice low.

"Oh Jesus," Dana whispered, walking to the couch and sinking into   
it. "Monica, I'm sorry."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The decision to follow Dana when she left had been a quick one, a   
desperate idea that came into fruition. Monica knew where she was   
headed. It wasn't Starbucks time. Dana was returning to her   
safety, her man of steel, running like she always did, running   
like she'd run from him a month earlier. Right into Monica's arms   
then straight back to him. Things had come full circle.

It was no surprise when they ended up outside Mulder's apartment   
building. Monica had parked down the street and watched Dana go   
inside. She was angry at herself for following and angrier at   
Dana for going there.

Monica had closed her eyes, remembering a chapel nestled in the   
rocky red cliffs of Sedona, surrounded by a bright blue sky with   
cotton ball clouds. She'd gone there when she was twelve years   
old, and at that chapel was the first time she'd truly felt   
spiritual energy, a connection to the earth and the sky at the   
same time.

At the chapel she'd watched a dove handler carefully remove the   
bird from its wooden cage and hand it to her. The dove's heart   
beat quickly and its body twitched in her hands. She'd cradled it   
to her chest, closing her eyes, trying to calm it down. She'd   
released it with the others when the sun was at its highest above   
the desert. She'd watched it swoop in beauty, stretching its   
wings in release for a glorious moment, only to fly straight back   
to its handler after its brief taste of freedom.

And that was the way of the dove. To find that comfort, to sample   
the feeling of weightless joy before returning to the peace of   
the known.

Just a week ago, in a warm light afterglow, she and Dana were on   
their stomachs in a silent moment, a sheen of sweat on their   
backs. They watched each other catch up with breath.

"I was thinking." Monica had traced her fingers up Dana's smooth   
spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

"What a surprise." Dana had closed her eyes with a tiny smirk.   
"Dare I ask?"

Monica had moved her fingers across Dana's shoulder and down the   
bumpy ribs of her side, nervous butterflies taking over her   
tranquility. "I was thinking we should transfer to the Phoenix   
field office."

Dana had laughed softly. "Monica, sometimes I think you dream out   
loud."

Monica had nestled her head a little deeper into the pillow,   
resting her hand on Dana's bare bottom. "No, hear me out. We   
could move down there, get out of D.C. Leave its facades and   
false security. Just you and me. We could get a place in Sedona.   
Sleep in the desert under the stars, hike Oak Creek Canyon.   
Reconnect with nature and God, find ourselves. And work   
occasionally."

"Sedona, huh?" Dana's eyebrows had lifted as she said it. Monica   
had known it was a stretch for her to imagine leaving for such a   
completely different way of life, but underneath the uncertainty   
she could hear a hint of longing in Dana's voice.

"I love Sedona. You'd love it."

"Up and move, just like that?"

"Just like that," Monica had repeated. She'd closed her eyes and   
felt her body drifting, hazy thoughts of rugged terrain, scrub   
brush and magic in the wind. "What are you thinking?" she'd   
murmured.

Monica had felt Dana sling a smooth leg over her bottom.   
Straddling the small of her back, Dana had pressed their bodies   
together, snapping Monica out of the sweet bliss of dreams and   
into an even sweeter bliss of heated, soft flesh grinding against   
her own.

"I'm thinking I'm not done with you yet," Dana had whispered into   
the back of her hair.

Monica had slipped out of reminiscing and found herself back in   
the smoggy dusk of D.C., in the car, outside of Mulder's   
apartment building once again. She'd been surprised when she   
checked the time that barely a half hour had passed. She had   
decided to go in, to knock on that door, interrupt whatever   
thinking they were doing and let her voice be heard.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Monica looked at Dana sitting on the couch and heard the   
sincerity in her apology, but felt surprisingly unmoved by it.

"I know you're sorry," Monica said. "The sad part is that you   
think 'sorry' will make it all better. Nothing's better, Dana.   
Nothing could be worse."

Mulder appeared in the bedroom doorway and Monica glared at him.   
He leaned against the doorframe, watching her. She saw past his   
simulated confidence and knew he was shaken, just like she was.   
She could see it in his eyes, his white-knuckled grip on the   
wooden frame. "So what now?" Monica asked, looking back at Dana.

"I don't know what," Dana said, looking at her hands hanging in   
her lap.

"All right, there's another wrong answer. All I've heard from   
you, all we've heard from you I assume, is 'I don't know.' I'm   
working in the here and now, Dana." Monica put her hands on her   
hips and came a few steps closer, trying to hold back her anger.   
"You've got to make a decision. Here and now."

"What are you doing?" Dana didn't look up at her.

"Stopping the pain," Monica said. "It's like...you're stringing   
us along, until what? Until one of us gives up, so you don't have   
to take the blame for cutting either of us off?"

"All right, that's enough." Mulder's delayed conversational debut   
made Monica even more disturbed. She resisted the urge to take it   
out on his face.

"Don't you tell me what's enough." Monica watched him shift on   
his feet, giving her a heated glare. She returned it. Yes, I'm in   
your house, marking my territory, she thought. Bring it on.

"You really think berating her to make a quick decision is the   
way to go, Monica?"

Monica rolled her eyes. "This decision hasn't been quick, goddamn   
it. We've been hanging in the balance the entire time. You know,   
Mulder, I don't like you. I think you're a conceited, self-  
serving prick, but I'm not sure you deserve this amount of   
torture. Not even you." She heard her heartbeat in her ears, felt   
a nervous twitch in her limbs. She could take this up a notch and   
he'd not forget it for years.

"Oh Monica, get off your high horse," Mulder snapped. "I'm so   
tired of your self-righteous bullshit, straight off of some   
fantasy conquest. You rescued her from the big,   
bad dragon, worked your way inside her heart and now you think   
you're something else. Somebody should give you a fucking medal."

"Don't even get me started," Monica said, her voice calmly even   
despite the hurricane she felt churning inside. "Don't even   
fucking start with me, Mulder. You'll regret it more than you   
know."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You don't get it, Monica." Mulder walked to the kitchen, wishing   
he had a lot more vodka in the house. He took a swig of the   
mineral water instead, straight from the bottle. Good enough. The   
bubbles sizzled down his throat. "I told you this earlier. Scully   
and I go way back, farther than you know, I think farther   
than she and I know. And we've gone this distance together, faced   
insurmountable odds, and made it through. I watched her on her   
deathbed twice, wishing I could be there in her place. And then   
they took me, and whatever the fuck happened there, I died and   
came back to life and we're still together."

Monica approached him and he could nearly feel her mind picking   
him apart. This woman was tenacious, to put it mildly. It was a   
challenge to throw something out there that would stump her.

Normally it would amuse him, but Mulder felt a restless   
uneasiness, like he was on the verge of losing more than he   
wanted to acknowledge. He could sound as confident as he wanted   
to, but the idea of Scully leaving him for good scared him more   
than death.

"And why was she on her deathbed, Mulder? Wait...because of you.   
Always because of you and the darkness you drag her through. You   
going to tell me she deserves that? When's it going to end,   
Mulder? When are you going to give her peace?"

Oh, she's good, he thought, taking another long drink from the   
bottle. He glanced at Scully, who'd been completely still on the   
couch with her eyes closed, brow furrowed. A tear trickled down   
Scully's cheek and she quickly wiped it away, opening her eyes to   
meet his gaze.

"You're not her savior, Monica. Your Christ complex astounds me."   
He didn't break his visual connection with Scully as he said it.   
Her chin quivered.

"Look who's talking, Mr. Resurrection." Monica managed to move   
between them so he couldn't see Scully's face. It was intentional   
blocking on her part.

"I think we've been talking a lot and we haven't been listening,"   
he said, moving past Monica to sit on the couch. He gave Scully   
her distance and she turned her head to question him with her   
eyes. "I think it's time for us to listen to you."

Monica walked slowly over to his desk chair and sat down, visibly   
displeased at his proximity to what she wanted most. She glanced   
at Scully and then settled her eyes on the glowing fish tank in   
the corner. Moments passed as they listened to the bubbling of   
the aerator and the quiet ticking of minutes spent waiting on   
resolution.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully had listened to their acrid banter while trying to calm   
her nerves, her stomach threatening to bring up all of the   
emotions inside of her until there was nothing left. She needed   
to listen and hear their true intentions. They could sweet talk   
her all they wanted, but the fact was that Monica and Mulder both   
had selfish reasons for clinging to her. It was easily   
discernable as their attempts at discrediting each others'   
emotions became more frenzied.

It was hard to take, hard to understand, but easier than speaking   
up. When she opened her mouth, there would be expectations to be   
met, and the idea overwhelmed her. And now they waited on her, a   
pregnant pause hanging in the air.

"This isn't anything anyone should ever have to do." Scully's   
voice was calm and she stared into Mulder's eyes. "This is   
surreal. And I hate it."

Monica and Mulder were silent. Scully shifted on the couch,   
uncomfortable about the importance of each word she spoke. It   
felt like she was dropping beads of water onto a hot frying pan.

"I don't know what you expect from me," Scully said. She settled   
with her elbows on her knees. It was the only thing she could do   
to help her feel as guarded as possible. "If I'm supposed to   
provide a signed declaration stating some sort of final choice   
between the both of you, that's nonsense. And it ignores the true   
depth of this situation."

She sensed Mulder's discomfort at her statement. He breathed out   
slowly and put his feet on the coffee table, crossing his legs.   
She knew full well that was what he'd expected, and in his favor   
no less.

"Did you just use me, Dana?" Monica finally looked at her, anger   
settled deep into her features. "Was I just an easy way to punish   
him? An excuse to get away for awhile?"

"If it was just that, then this would be a lot easier." Scully   
hurt from the pain in Monica's eyes--the pain of rejection, of   
giving everything she had and now wondering if she'd made a huge   
mistake.

"Scully, if you're not going to make a final choice now...I mean,   
what are we supposed to do with that? I don't think either of us   
is up for sharing. I'm not all about the free love here. Four   
nights here, three nights there. We're not in Utah." Mulder   
rubbed his hands over his bare knees, still only clad in his   
boxers. Scully glanced at the happy monkey faces on her pants and   
couldn't imagine a more fucked up situation. And he still had to   
make a sarcastic jab.

"No, we're not." Scully let herself fall back against the couch.   
"And now is no time for jokes, Mulder."

She saw the hurt in his eyes, an acknowledgement that she was   
right. She knew how he was, how he had been so many times before.   
Humor came hand-in-hand with emotional denial.

"You know how sorry I am," Mulder said. Scully watched his leg   
shake, his heel hitting the floor like a fast heartbeat,   
unrelenting nervousness radiating outward. "But if that one night   
is the only reason why you're willing to throw us away, there's   
nothing I can do about it. It's never made sense to me, but I've   
let you go as much as I can, let you find your way. You came to   
me tonight, I think for a reason. All I've ask is that you think   
about it, Scully." He searched her face for a reaction.

"I have," she said softly. "I'm always thinking."

"She came to me for a reason, too," Monica said, tilting back in   
the desk chair. "What was that reason, Dana?"

Scully had been impressed with her own ability to keep calm so   
far, but the air of vulnerability in Monica's question sent her   
quickly to an edge she'd been trying to avoid.

"I was running from the mess we'd created." Her words were slow   
and calculated. "I was so upset at him..." She glanced at Mulder.   
"At you, Mulder, and so mixed up and angry that I turned my back   
on it all."

"And came to me. Because you knew I'd be there to try and take it   
all away." Monica exhaled slowly. "And I couldn't, no matter what   
I said or did. No matter how you felt with me, he was still   
there."

Scully nodded, her throat dry.

"Well, that's bullshit, Dana." Monica left the chair and stood in   
front of the coffee table, her hand on the back of her neck. "You   
dragged me into this. You invited me into his bed, you invited me   
into your bed. Now you're telling me it was all about running   
from him? That you felt nothing for me besides escape from   
reality?"

"Of course not, Monica. I feel...I felt a connection with you.   
You're amazing and I don't deserve you. At all." Scully saw the   
spark of an inevitable meltdown behind Monica's dark eyes and   
knew she couldn't stop it now. She never could. "Monica, I think   
it's possible to have feelings for more than one person at once.   
I did, I do. But we can't live like this."

"So you're choosing him," Monica said, nudging her head in   
Mulder's direction. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes impatient.   
Monica had such a passion for what she believed in and what she   
wanted--it was the same flame that burned so brightly in Mulder,   
their desperate clinging to the deepest truth of all. Scully   
ached to give them both what they wanted so badly.

"Monica..." Scully stood up, faltering a bit. She noticed Mulder   
shifting beside her and wondered what he felt as he watched this   
relationship begin to implode. Was he relieved? Confused?   
Saddened? She was all three. She saw him watching her movements,   
serious and contemplative, and she wished she could read his   
thoughts. Does it make you feel good, she thought, to know that   
I'm breaking her heart?

Her stomach twisted again. She wasn't one to cause pain, not one   
to cause problems, yet she was guilty of it all. She met Monica's   
eyes and sent a silent, unknown plea to whoever was listening to   
send her peace.

"Don't even try to appease me," Monica said as her tears began to   
fall. "Don't make excuses, Dana. I can't handle it."

"I've got to stop running," Dana whispered. She felt her body   
tremor and her chest tighten when she saw Monica cry, knowing her   
tears were full of pain and shattered security.

"Dana, you leave me behind and you're running again."

"If I stayed I'd still be running. Running to what's easier,   
running away from complicated. Even if complicated is the path   
I'm fated to take. And I'm not sure when that would stop, or   
where." Scully felt her cheeks cold and wet to the air in the   
room and tried to ignore the fact that her tears had spilled   
over.

She felt Mulder's hand touch hers at her hip and looked down at   
him again. She wasn't sure what she saw in him. She played her   
fingers against his listlessly.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Monica's voice betrayed her. Scully knew   
she had little fight left, despite her best attempts at keeping   
her anger in the game. Scully pulled her hand away from Mulder's   
fingers and made her way around the coffee table. Monica moved   
away quickly, heading for the door.

"Wait," Scully said, following her.

"I'm done waiting." Monica opened the door.

"Monica. Stop."

Monica kept her hand on the door and looked back at Scully, fresh   
tears sliding down her cheeks. "I should have stopped the first   
time we started."

"Jesus." Scully exhaled the word, feeling her abdomen tighten   
like she'd been punched in the stomach.

"Whatever, Dana," Monica whispered, shutting the door behind her.

Scully felt her breathing become ragged, each one taking more   
effort than the last.

"Scully?" Mulder's voice was soft. She ignored him. She opened   
the door and walked into the hallway.

"Monica."

Monica was stopped at the elevator doors and Scully gulped back   
the strain in her throat. She'd given up on wiping away the tears   
trailing down her cheeks. More evidence of the fissure in her   
heart, how incredibly guilty she felt for implicating Monica so   
deeply, dragging her underwater in the struggle to reclaim her   
own breath.

Turn around, she thought. Turn around, just turn around.

Monica turned, her cheeks stained with tears. She put a hand on   
her hip, staring at the honeycomb-patterned floor of the hallway.

"What, Dana." Not a question--a demand of attempted strength.

Scully walked up to her and stood inches away, trying to look   
into Monica's eyes. Monica refused, pulling hair behind her ear   
and chewing on her lower lip.

"I don?t know." Scully could barely whisper. She had no good   
reason for making Monica wait. No matter how long she waited, the   
result would be the same, and there was no reason to prolong the   
pain. She wanted to wrap Monica in her arms and hug her and heal   
her at the same time. To make her forget the memory of touch and   
taste, to wash away every sacred moment that made this hurt both   
of them even worse.

"He is going to hurt you, Dana," Monica whispered, her voice   
heavy with sadness and painful resolve. Another tear fell. "He'll   
do it again, and you'll keep going back, thinking you can fix   
him. But there are some things you can't fix. There are some   
things people can never change."

Scully reached out and wiped Monica's cheek with her thumb, the   
skin hot and soft. Monica pressed her cheek into her palm. "I   
know. But I can't change how I feel about him."

Monica's dark gaze seared her heart. "But when did you change how   
you felt about me?"

Scully squeezed her eyes shut. It hurts, she thought. It hurts   
too badly. I need to let go. Just let it go.

She felt Monica's lips brush hers softly, a split second of pause   
amid the fortress walls crumbling. "You'll find your way," Monica   
whispered fiercely. "And if that way passes by me again, stop to   
say hello."

And then Monica turned and took the long descending stairway to   
the street. Scully stood still, fingernails cutting into her   
palms. Ten breaths, twenty breaths, until her quiet sobs slowly   
faded away.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Mulder standing in his   
doorway, watching and waiting.

Scully turned her back on him, not quite ready to be touched.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

day one, day one, start over again  
step one, step one  
i'm barely making sense  
for now i'm faking it  
till i'm pseudo making it  
from scratch begin again  
but this time i as i  
and not as we

\- alanis morissette, not as we

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this may read a little like an Oscar speech I thought I'd save it for the end. Thanks in the form of one free iced coffee per day for a year go to Marigold for hanging in there as a fabulous beta. Thanks to scullyseviltwin, who provided me with the alanis necessary to finish this up. And to everyone who kept pushing me and encouraging me, to those who opened up their minds and went on this crazy MSR ride (Mulder/Scully/Reyes, of course)...it meant more to me than you know. Every note of feedback and every frustrated groan kept me going. Special thanks go to scrubschick, wolfmusic218, cata_clysmiic, and innisfree.


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